


Lions Walk With Wanderers

by windsabove



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Angst down the line, Gen, Main game and DLC content, This idea hit me like a truck and wouldn't leave, With a dash of humor in a dark world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10935414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsabove/pseuds/windsabove
Summary: Rowena, a struggling Undead, challenges the deadly duo of Anor Londo at last. A plea for mercy spares her briefly from the Dragon Slayer's wrath. But this one act sparks a strange and unwilling collaboration, one that will change the fate of Lordran forever...if they stop trying to end each other, that is.





	1. Wanderer, Chosen Undead, Amateur Bargainer

The fog wall in front of her shimmered and wobbled, hiding whatever horrors stood beyond it. She had been fighting for too long to think otherwise. Rowena blinked a few times, ignoring her trembling arms. At this point, she had no way of knowing if they were trembling because of her nerves or her lack of strength. She looked up, brown eyes drinking in the grandiose architecture of Anor Londo.

Every spiraling staircase, every hooded guardian, every brutal giant, brought her to this moment. The brilliant sun cast golden light on everything, and at first glance, Rowena thought Anor Londo to be a refuge from her trials. Perhaps, despite her quest for the Lordvessel, she was too optimistic. However, she saw no alternative aside from the despair that plagued this land. So she pushed through enemy after enemy, dispelling the overwhelming darkness from her thoughts until she found herself here, in front of what she could only assume was another test. After so many battles, she thought her fear would disappear. Her hesitation proved otherwise.

She glanced over at her summoned phantom. Solaire. As hopeful as she could be, Rowena never hoped to match his sunny outlook, his sheer determination. In a land so consumed by despair, it was difficult to believe someone to be so optimistic. She could only hope it, along with his strength, would guide her through another fight.

“This...is reckless,” she mumbled, heaving her sword up on her shoulder as she cast her gaze towards the fog again. “This is the last time I wield anything received from a Black Knight. But if it helps…” She took a short breath, her mouth dry. “Just this once.” Her hands gripped the hilt of the sword tightly. 

“Alright, Solaire.” She took a step forward. “Follow me.”

Rowena breathed one last time before stepping through the fog, her phantom companion quickly following suit. As she gazed at her surroundings, she noted the similar arches and spires found throughout Anor Londo. The sun shone through towering, ornate windows, and the marble floor beneath her seemed to glimmer in its beams. What was dreadfully apparent, however, was the figure standing on the other side of the room.

A giant adorned in shining gold armor guarded the path with an incredibly large hammer in hand. How anyone could wield such a weapon was a terrifying mystery. He stood perfectly still, a sentry in the shadows, waiting for her approach. Rowena swallowed hard, holding her weapon with all of her might as she stepped forward, bracing herself for imminent impact. After five steps, she stopped. The giant never moved once. She squinted, briefly wondering if he was a statue meant to throw her off.

The sound of metal hitting marble drew Rowena’s attention towards the upper balconies.

She nearly dropped her weapon on her foot at the sight of the golden knight above them. At least, the sheen and lion design of his armor told her he was a knight of sorts. From her position on the floor, she could just make out the sharp, bared teeth on the helmet and the jewel-adorned chest plate. A great red plume flowed out of the top of his helmet, and a long, deadly spear was his weapon of choice. Rowena briefly saw herself impaled on the end of it and shivered. 

The knight turned his attention towards her, holding her in place with a simple stare. Even with no visible eyes, he sliced into her soul. She let out a sharp gasp as, moments later, he vaulted over the balcony railing. The giant shifted his grip on his hammer, wielding it with both hands. Soon after, the knight landed gracefully next to his companion, hardly bending his knees as he did so. The pair stood there briefly as Rowena quickly processed her situation.

“Solaire,” she whispered, “if you can hear me…”

The knight shifted his grip on his spear, rushing towards her before she could blink.

“ _ RUN! _ ”

The air from the spear’s movement flowed past Rowena’s head as she rolled away and broke into a sprint. A nearby column shattered. She yelped, dodging the debris. The giant was upon her when she rose. A swing from his hammer nearly sent her into the wall. Rowena rolled and heaved her sword into his leg. Laughter rang in her ears. Something slim smacked her torso. Electricity coursed through her body as she flew and slammed into the floor .She caught her breath, then staggered to her feet. Solaire was distracting the knight. She looked up, yelping again as the hammer nearly crushed her. A quick swig from her Estus Flask saved her from death. 

The edge of the giant’s hammer caught her leg before she could dodge. Her impact with the floor was hard, a screech leaving her throat upon contact. Laughter made her freeze again. Rowena rose after a few seconds, taking a slow jog around her foe. She swung her sword, metal scraping against marble before making contact with armor and flesh. The giant stumbled. Rowena swung her sword again. Pain flared in her shoulders. She slammed her body into the floor to avoid the hammer. Armor collided with bone and knocked the air out of her lungs, leaving her prone. A flat part of the giant’s hammer rose above her. Rowena shut her eyes, bracing for impact.

Within seconds, the giant let out an agonized roar. Rowena opened her eyes. Electricity sparked from his back. One of Solaire’s bolts. She smiled and dragged herself to stand. Sweat pooled between her fingers. The scents of blood mingling with metal wafted in and out of her nose. She gritted her teeth and heaved her sword twice before backing away. A bolt of lightning skimmed her armor, singeing the loose hair on her left side. She jumped, whipping around as the giant walked towards her. A labored thrust of her weapon helped her avoid his attack, stabbing his closest leg in the process. Rowena took another drink from her flask in time for the knight’s spear to send her flying across the room. She slammed into the marble, paralyzed from the pain.

Rowena didn’t know how long she’d been on the floor when she could finally see, but a loud crash of armor on marble had her scrambling to her knees. As her hands touched the floor for support, the giant fell at last with one last slice from Solaire’s sword. A victorious grin graced her features briefly, only to fall when the golden knight landed beside his fallen companion. His hand stretched out to touch the giant. Her eyes widened, and a strained yell ejected itself from her throat before she could think otherwise.

“ _ STOP! _ ”

The knight paused, withdrew his hand, and slowly turned to look at her. She froze, although her hands barely held her up. After a pause, Rowena stumbled to her feet and tread carefully across the room towards him, never breaking eye contact. Her entire body begged for death with every shuffling step, but her mind set her on a different course. She stopped just feet away from the knight, then slowly sheathed her sword. With the strength she had left, Rowena knelt on one knee in front of her standing foe, gaze focused on his feet. 

This was reckless. 

Then again, so was wielding a weapon she could barely lift.

“Fair knight,” she began, her voice strained, “I know it is your duty to battle me and keep guard of this cathedral. What you protect is of invaluable importance. But please, hear my words.” Rowena took a shaky breath. “I have no desire to fight you. In my travels across Lordran, I have killed countless beings like myself, gone mad from Hollowing. You may consider this a mercy, but I consider their ends fruitless, thankless. And...in continuing my quest, I wish to free them from this pain. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Rowena paused to gather her thoughts. Before she could speak again, the sharp tip of the knight’s spear dug into her left shoulder. She stopped herself from flinching.

“Countless Undead have attempted to trick me with less,” he replied, irritation in his tone. “You dare to believe I will be  _ merciful? _ ”

“Not believe,” she said. “I...I can only  _ hope _ you will decide to spare me.”

“And _ why _ , pray tell, do you cling so dearly to this wish?”

Rowena blinked, her gaze still locked onto the same spot. It had been so long since she first set out on this journey. The Northern Asylum seemed nothing but a distant dream. Yet, after all of this time, she still held on to  _ something _ . What it was exactly was unclear, but she had to reply. She did not relish the idea of the knight’s spear jamming any further into her skin.

“Perhaps I wish for a peaceful world,” she started at last, “a world free from this curse. If what I have been told is to be believed, coming to this place was the next step to achieving this. And...there is enough death and misery in this world without my help. I long to break the cycle of bloodshed. Which is why I come to you with a bargain, guardian of Anor Londo.”

Rowena inhaled sharply as the spear dug further into her shoulder.

“Then speak, Undead, before your time is wasted.”

She nodded, then continued. “I wish to retrieve the Lordvessel peacefully. If you would spare my life and allow me to pass without bloodshed, I will take with me what I need and never return to these hallowed halls. As for my worth...how many other Undead have attempted to make peace with their attackers?”

Silence filled the room, gnawing at her ears. Her legs trembled from supporting her weight. She willed herself not to fall over. Her breaths came quiet, slow, agonizing. Sweat dripped from her forehead, a tiny drop hitting the floor near her foot with a silent splash. Her throat began to burn when the spear was finally withdrawn. Rowena caught herself before she could tumble face first onto the marble.

“On your feet.” She looked up. The knight still had his spear in hand, but it was no longer pointing in her direction. Rowena pushed herself upright, then teetered to her feet, swaying slightly. She almost fell over when she realized how tall the knight was in comparison to herself. 

“I thank you,” she mumbled.

He gently shook his head. “Your life is not in my hands, but in the hands of Her Majesty. She shall determine if you are as worthy as you claim.” He gestured towards the back of the room. Rowena turned, noting the two archways. Ignoring her aching body, she began walking, the clanging of armor never far behind. She took shallow breaths, the weight of her own armor beginning to take its toll. Soon, the pair came upon an elevator not unlike the ones she’d seen upon arrival: a flat, circular platform that was transported up and down by a spiraling brown mechanism. She stepped onto it, blocking out the presence of the knight temporarily as they ascended. 

Upon reaching the second floor, Rowena caught sight of an unlit bonfire. Despite its odd placement, she almost dashed towards it, as she was prone to doing after precarious battles. This time, however, she held back and calmly stepped off of the elevator, pausing just in front of it.

“Am I permitted to rest before my audience with Her Majesty?” Rowena asked.

A short pause followed her inquiry.

“Make it brief.”

She acknowledged his command, then strolled over to the bonfire as if she had just arrived to Firelink Shrine for the first time all over again. She silently lit it and collapsed in front of the small flame, all of her muscles giving up at once. 

As the fire’s warmth soothed her aching body, her mind set into motion. In one moment, she’d made a decision she was sure would have simply led to her death. The disbelief pervading her thoughts kept her on the floor longer than she liked, her brown eyes following the flickering flames. She was grateful for this spot of rest and respite, but how long could she remain civil before everything fell apart once more? Would she make it beyond this bonfire, or would the knight watching her every move decide to end her? She balled her hands into fists and drew them close to her chest, her breaths steadily coming easier. This wasn’t much, but in a world that sought to kill her, she would take these small, peaceful moments while she could. 

Rowena rose after what felt like an eternity of staying motionless on the cold floor. Her joints no longer yearned for the sweet release of death, but the armor she wore continued to weigh her down. She let out a soft sigh as she rolled her shoulders and glanced at the double doors in front of her. The lady behind them would mark her fate. She dispelled the thought and slowly walked forward and up the stairs, coming face to face with the doors sooner than expected. As much as she tried to ignore it, the knight’s stare dug into the back of her skull. She flexed her hands once, placed them on the ornate doors and pushed them open, bracing herself to face the person behind them. 

She stopped and gazed at the woman in front of them, a hand flying to her mouth. This royal woman was unlike anyone she had ever seen before. Long, brown curls flowed like gentle waves from her head down her back. She was clothed in pure white, her dress flowing around her and to the floor in delicate strips as she reclined upon a couch and pillow. Rowena grew warm at the sight of the woman, whose radiant skin and kind smile were the complete opposite of everything the struggling Undead had encountered in Anor Londo. Only the sun dared to intrude light upon this scene, illuminating the draping curtains surrounding the lady.

Maybe she had a chance, after all.

“Thou hast journey’d far and overcome much, chosen Undead,” the woman said, her voice melodic and smooth. “Come hither, child.”

Rowena hesitated, but let a small smile cross her face as she stepped towards the woman and knelt before her. 

“O Chosen Undead. I am Gwynevere, Daughter of Lord Gwyn and Queen of Sunlight.” She paused for a moment. “And I see thou hast spared the knight guarding my quarters. For what reason hast thou done this?”

Any warm feelings she’d had were gone the moment she was reminded of her adversary’s existence. Rowena bit her lip, about to speak when the knight spoke instead.

“It was per the Undead’s request, Your Majesty,” he started, his tone devoid of his previous annoyance, “that the Lordvessel be retrieved without further violence. I have brought her to your quarters so you may pass final judgment upon her.”

Rowena’s fingernails dug into her palms. This was the moment that would define her progress, all of her efforts up to this point. She bowed her head further, awaiting Gwynevere’s decision.

“Thine efforts do not go without purpose, Dragon Slayer Ornstein,” said Gwynevere, her voice as soft as before. “Thou hast ushered in a thoughtful and knowledgeable Undead. She is a worthy successor to my father, indeed.”  

At those words, Rowena exhaled, being careful to keep it discrete. So Ornstein was the knight’s name. Now she could take proper care to forget it entirely once she left this place.

“Which is why I bequeath the Lordvessel unto thee, Chosen Undead,” Gwynevere continued. 

Rowena glanced up, and a strange golden bowl-like object appeared before her. She reached out and touched the rim, the texture as smooth as the marble of Anor Londo. At her contact, the Lordvessel disappeared in an orange flash of light, glowing embers surrounding her armored hand. 

“Unbelievable,” Rowena breathed.

“And beseech thee, succeed Lord Gwyn, and inheriteth the fire of our world. With the aid of the Dragon Slayer, thou shall endeth this eternal twilight, and avert further Undead sacrifices.”

She took a moment to process Gwynevere’s words. Succeed Lord Gwyn, end the eternal twilight with-

Wait.

It had to be a mistake.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” Ornstein started, his confusion apparent, “I do not believe the Chosen Undead requires my aid in this matter. She had journeyed this far on her own. Surely she is capable enough to go further.”

“I disagree, dear Dragon Slayer,” Gwynevere replied. “Thine life has been spared by my father’s successor. Perhaps her actions are a sign of her needs. Journey with her, and ensure that darkness does not engulf our world.”

Panic welled in Rowena’s throat. This couldn’t be possible. Maybe this entire experience was some sort of nightmare, worse than the ones she’d had in recent memory. She took a shuddering breath, praying to whatever gods would show mercy that this proposal would never come to-

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Rowena bit back a groan of exasperation. She glanced over at Ornstein, who was slowly getting to his feet. He looked at her, the eyes of his helmet shining with an almost expectant gleam. Pushing away her racing thoughts, Rowena stood up, taking one last look at Gwynevere before walking out of the room, her hands trembling.

Her current visit to the bonfire was supposed to be a happy one, one to celebrate her victory in obtaining the Lordvessel. She had pictured herself giddy, laughing in relief that her effort hadn’t ended in death for once. Now, she wished Ornstein had struck her down in the cathedral over and over again until she slaughtered him per the course. She stared into the flames, ignoring the golden glimmer across from her until required.

“So, O Chosen Undead,” Ornstein said, his voice heavy with mockery, “will you go back to the slaughter so soon?”

Rowena glared. “As much as you wish that upon me, no.” She crossed her arms. “ _ We _ are going to Firelink, unless you  _ want _ to disobey your charge.”

Ornstein took a breath, then mimicked her pose.

“Lead the way, then.”

She sighed and shut her eyes, just about to get up from her spot when a warm sensation filled her body. The hand brushing the marble floor soon found soft blades of grass, and a small breeze blew through her loose strands of hair. She opened her eyes, disappointed to find the golden knight sitting across from her.

Rowena wondered how many times she could throw herself into Blighttown before her death became permanent. 


	2. A Knight's Trials

Of all of the duties he thought he would fulfill in his lifetime, following the Chosen Undead around was _not_ one of them.

It was strange, leaving Anor Londo. Ornstein couldn’t recall for the life of him the last time he stepped outside of those walls. The world was crumbling and somber, as he expected in an age of Undead. But witnessing the land’s decay for himself...a part of him wished he had known the extent of the damage sooner.

If only he had ventured out here under better circumstances.

It was never his place to question Lord Gwyn’s progeny, but what in Lordran’s name was Gwynevere thinking? Sending him along to essentially look after this Undead, and for what purpose? She would simply come back to life if she died, and it was neither his business nor his concern if she went Hollow. She would become another shambling corpse in a dying world, and another Undead would stroll along and take her place. Based on how she handled herself in the cathedral, he saw no hopeful outcome for her.

Ornstein glanced at the Undead girl sitting on the other side of the bonfire. Copper blonde strands of hair dangled from the braid circling her head and dusted the sides of her face. The bun on the back of her head suffered similar escapees. Her cheeks indicated exhaustion, the bright skin tinged with a deepening red. Her shoulders were hunched in a strange, almost painful, manner. Dark brown eyes reflected the licking flames of the bonfire, as well as her dismay over this whole matter. At the very least, dismay was one thing they had in common.

“You would be better suited for a lighter set of armor,” he said at last, garnering a hateful look from her instantly.

“And who are _you_ to dictate what armor I should and should not be wearing?” she snapped.

He rolled his eyes, although the effect was lost on her due to his helmet. “It was a mere suggestion. You should be grateful I gave you one in the first place.”

“Grateful?” Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you humorous?”

Ornstein thought about reaching for his spear then and there, but decided against it for the time being. Instead, he continued to stare at her. His stillness made her shift uncomfortably.

“Listen to me _carefully_ , Undead,” he began, leaving no amount of intolerance out of his tone. “Perhaps you have already forgotten the mercy I bestowed upon you in Anor Londo. If not for that, you would still be clumsily rolling about the cathedral in a shameful attempt at combat. And yet, your cowardice spared you the spear this once. I may be under Her Majesty’s orders, but do not believe for a _moment_ I will hesitate to usher in your death should you test my patience.”

She scoffed. “Just for that insult, I will test it all I like.”

“That insult is the truth,” he replied.

“I am _perfectly_ capable of wielding a sword, thank you very much.”

“With two hands, and you can hardly swing it. Your strategy leaves you vulnerable.”

“It does no such thing.”

“Fine.” Ornstein folded his arms. “Then stand and show me how you wield it.”

She scowled, but pushed hair out of her face and slowly got to her feet. Her gaze remained firmly on him as she unsheathed her sword and gripped the hilt with two hands, just as she had done in Anor Londo. From a distance, she seemed a competent warrior. At this range, however, Ornstein spotted every single tremor, down to the fingers weeping for relief. Her stance was weak, knees threatening to give way under the pressure. He allowed her to stand like that for a bit longer, pretending he still had the need to analyze her faults.

“One hand, shield in the other,” he ordered.

She cast another scathing look, but eventually shifted her weapon near her shoulder and released her left hand from the hilt to grab her shield. After a moment or two, the trepidation on her face was replaced by a triumphant smirk.

“As I said,” she started, “I am completely capable of-”

The sword tipped forward, and the Undead toppled towards it, letting out a yell. She let go of the hilt and tumbled to the ground as the blade pierced the dirt, nearly setting her hand ablaze in the process. She quickly withdrew it, catching her breath and setting her gaze towards the sky.

“You were saying?” Ornstein retorted.

She turned her head and frowned. “This proves _nothing_.”

“I would say it proves my point perfectly.” He tilted his head slightly. “You have souls from battle, correct?”

“Maybe.” She sat up. “If that counted as a battle in your eyes.”

“A pitiful one, but yes.”  He ignored her rude gesture. “Regardless, if you want any chance of survival, you will channel them into a more useful skill than you have been. Your strength, perhaps.”

“Strength doesn’t define my capabilities,” she said. “I’ve done just fine without a great deal of it.”

“Maybe so. However, if you wish to fulfill your role as the Chosen Undead, you will have to do more than simply avoid your foe and pray to the gods that you are successful.”

Her face scrunched up in disgust, but she didn’t outright deny that that was her strategy. “Fine, then. But I have a name, you know. Maybe you don’t care to learn it, but I will _not_ sit here and have you call me an Undead the entire time.”

“Then what is it?”

She paused, folding her hands in her lap. “Rowena. No fancy titles or anything. Just...Rowena.”

Well, at least he now had a name to associate with this Undead cartwheeling her way towards death.

“What about you?” Rowena asked. “Am I obligated to call you ‘Dragon Slayer Ornstein’?”

He didn’t care for her tone, but let it be for now. “No. ‘Ornstein’ is enough.”

“Good.” She got to her feet and yanked her sword out of the ground, sheathing it with both hands. “Now that we have _that_ out of the way, there’s someone we must speak with. He’s hard to miss, what with the terrible breath and clacking teeth.”

Ornstein paused. Those descriptions sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He silently rose and followed Rowena. They walked through rustling green grass and up a set of overgrown stone steps that led to a sturdy archway covered in vines and moss. Once through, Rowena turned her head and waved to a man sitting quietly by a barren tree. The man, clothed in a brown hooded tunic, happily acknowledged her greeting, but stopped upon seeing Ornstein and quickly looked away. She frowned and turned her gaze ahead of them again, climbing two small sets of stairs and stepping through two more archways before stopping in front of a slumbering creature, one he recognized all too well.

Rowena sighed. “Asleep already? I _really_ don’t care to wake him up again.”

“What do you expect from a Primordial Serpent?”

He hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but she was already giving him a puzzled look and there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

“You know him?” she asked.

Ornstein nodded. “From years past, yes. He was on good terms with Lord Gwyn.” He glanced back at the serpent as Rowena sighed again. The strange extensions coming from the areas beneath the eyes, the yellowed teeth, the ungodly snoring. None of it had changed since he last saw Frampt. It was comforting and suspicious all at once, as was the usual for this imperfect dragon.

“Kingseeker Frampt!” Rowena suddenly yelled, cupping her hands over her mouth as she did so.

Frampt continued snoring.

“Please wake up!” she continued. “I have the Lordvessel!”

Not even a twitch.

Rowena cursed under her breath. “Are _all_ Primordial Serpents like this?”

“Hard to say,” Ornstein replied. “Have you considered nudging him awake?”

“With _what?_ ”

“You must have _something_ blunt equipped. And I’m not referring to your head.”

She let out a mocking laugh. “Charming, really.” She stared at Frampt for a moment, then pulled out a simple wooden Catalyst. “This ought to do it.”

Rowena crept down the stairs and toward Frampt, the end of the Catalyst pointing at his snout. She stopped just short of the serpent, frowning again, then took a breath and gave Frampt a short jab. His eyes snapped open, as orange and slitted as ever. Rowena scrambled backwards.

“Hm?” Frampt said, still tinged with exhaustion. “No, no, I’m fine, I’m fine. Well and wide awake! Do not treat me like an old withering snake.”

“Sorry!” Rowena exclaimed. She cleared her throat and put the Catalyst away. “But I have some good news for you, Kingseeker Frampt. As you requested, I have brought-”

“What in Gwyn’s name have you _done_ , Chosen Undead?” Frampt interrupted, staring directly at Ornstein. “You were to retrieve the Lordvessel! What is one of its _guardians_ doing here?”

Rowena shut her eyes, then opened them again. “I did retrieve it. Just...not in the way I expected to.” She fiddled with her fingers as she continued. “I asked for mercy, and I dared not deny Queen Gwynevere’s request that the Dragon Slayer accompany me on my journey. Surely you can understand.”

Frampt paused, lost in thought and still staring at Ornstein, clacking his teeth all the while.

“Well,” he began, finally turning his attention towards Rowena once more, “at least you had the decency to ask for mercy from _this one_.”

“All opinions of the Executioner aside,” Ornstein said, stepping forward, “I believe you have your Chosen Undead before you.”

“Yes, of course,” Frampt replied. “After a thousand years, she is the one. Now, let us take that vessel on a journey. I assume you are ready.”

“Journey?” Rowena looked at Ornstein. “What does he mean by-”

“Now, be still!”

Before Ornstein could attempt to figure out what Frampt meant by “journey”, he and Rowena were clamped between the serpent’s horrifying teeth and taken into his mouth.  Where they were going exactly was unknown, but the intensity of the creature’s breath increased tenfold. He made the mistake of inhaling sharply, and judging by Rowena’s nauseated groaning, she had done the same. It seemed like she was about to attempt to kick her way out of Frampt’s mouth when they were released and dropped onto stone with a resounding clank. Ornstein caught his breath, welcoming the new environment while Rowena gasped for air on the ground. After a minute or so, she stood up, and the pair turned to face what was ahead of them.

A pathway stretched out in front of them, flanked by stone columns with small torches on the tops. At the end rested a large tree stump, two vase-like torches illuminating the roots sprawling on the floor. Behind that was a set of imposing double doors, gray and worn by the passage of time.

“This is the Firelink Chamber, for the successor of Lord Gwyn,” Frampt said. “Now, place the Lordvessel on the altar.”

Rowena turned, raising an eyebrow at the serpent. “And if I do that, it will bring me one step closer to breaking this Undead curse forever. Am I right in saying so?”

Ornstein glanced at Frampt, whose expression remained about the same.

“Of course,” Frampt replied. “Do you have reason for doubt?”

She glanced at the stone beneath her feet, then shifted her gaze back to Frampt. “I simply want your word that, if I continue on my quest, I will end the cycle of Hollowing once and for all.”

A period of silence followed her words. Ornstein watched the serpent carefully, but once again, nothing about his expression changed. Still, the quiet that surrounded them wasn’t sitting right with him.

“Then you have it, Chosen Undead,” Frampt finally reassured.

Rowena nodded. She turned and slowly approached the altar, the Lordvessel materializing in her hands once she was close enough. Her knees immediately buckled from the weight of it. Ornstein bit back a laugh.

“I _know_ what you’re doing back there!” she yelled.

“And whatever could that be?” he retorted, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Surely you are just as capable of placing the Lordvessel yourself as you are wielding a Black Knight’s Sword. I have no doubt of it.”

“Please, Dragon Slayer, control yourself,” Frampt scolded.

“No no, don’t worry!” Rowena shouted, shifting her grip on the Lordvessel. “If I fail to place it on this stump, I will do us both a favor and drop it on our dear Dragon Slayer’s head! He would make a _fine_ altar!”

Ornstein shook his head, watching her struggle. He wondered how Rowena managed to fight her way through Lordran if she could hardly apply her physical capabilities to necessary tasks. There was something to be said for tact, but without strength, half of her plans must have fallen through. Perhaps the gods decided to smile upon her and granted her the finest round of luck any Undead had ever seen. As of that moment, it was the only explanation he could think to reason out her success.

At last, Rowena managed to shuffle the Lordvessel onto the stump. She took a step back to catch her breath. Soon after, it began to glow, yellow light flowing from it in a gentle cloud before shooting violently upwards in a beam. She stumbled backwards, nearly tripping down the stairs as she watched. Once the beam dissipated, a small flame ignited in the center of the Lordvessel.

“A bonfire,” Rowena whispered just loud enough for Ornstein to hear. She turned around and walked away from the altar, straightening up. “Alright. I’ve done it. What do I have to do to continue?”

“To achieve your fate,” Frampt started, “fill the vessel with powerful souls, commensurate to the great soul of Gwyn. Scarce few possess such brilliant souls. Gravelord Nito, the Witch of Izalith, the Four Kings of New Londo, who inherited the shards of Gwyn’s soul...and Lord Gwyn’s former confidant, Seath the Scaleless. All of their souls are required to satiate the Lordvessel.”

Rowena frowned. “Oh, brilliant. More bloodshed?”

“Unless you intend to take their souls with kind words, then yes,” Ornstein responded.

She shot him a glare, then looked back up at Frampt. “And once all of these souls are placed in the Lordvessel, those doors behind it will open. Which leads me to Lord Gwyn himself.”

“That is correct,” Frampt replied. “Are you ready?”

Her gaze fell to the floor once again, face shrouded in thought. Did she begin to comprehend the task that was before her? Well, _them_ , now that he was involved. It would be no small feat, and if he wanted to come close to fulfilling Lady Gwynevere’s wishes, Ornstein would have to resolve to keeping Rowena _somewhat_ intact...if the Undead did not tear herself apart first. Time would tell which scenario won out.

“Yes,” she finally answered. “I understand what I must do.”

“Then we shall return. Stay still for a moment!”

“Not again,” Ornstein mumbled. It was a short second before he realized Rowena had muttered the same words, and by then, the pair were once again scooped into Frampt’s mouth and whisked back up to the surface. He took care to hold his breath this time around.

Once deposited on the green earth of Firelink Shrine, Ornstein checked his armor over for any noticeable dents. Satisfied with his inspection, he looked at Rowena, who was wiping her armor off and grimacing in disgust. She met his gaze moments later.

“You aren’t fairing much better, you know,” Rowena commented, starting her walk towards the bonfire. “That armor is going to need just as much of a cleaning as mine.”

Ornstein began to follow her when Frampt spoke up.

“Dragon Slayer Ornstein.”

The knight slowly turned. “Yes, Kingseeker Frampt?”

“Do look after the Chosen Undead. There are perils in Lordran she has yet to encounter. Your experiences will no doubt be invaluable to her success.”

He held up a hand. “Regardless of my own wishes, I am under Her Majesty’s orders to do so. Rest assured, I shall carry out my duties as always.”

Frampt nodded. “Then be off.”

Ornstein acknowledged the serpent one last time before descending the stairs. When he walked through the last archway, Rowena was already seated by the bonfire. She barely spared him a glance as he took a seat across from her.

“If I ever have to go into his mouth again, I will knock his teeth out myself,” Rowena growled.

“Funny,” Ornstein said. “I thought you were already working on that on the way down. Not that it achieved anything.”

“Do you ever have anything _useful_ to say?”

“I do, but you refuse to listen regardless of what I say.” She rolled her eyes, holding her hands out towards the flames. “Do you have any inkling of a plan?”

“Vaguely.” Rowena set her hands down on her feet. “However, before we traverse anywhere else in Lordran, there is one thing I need to retrieve. Something I avoided earlier in my journey, but I will not go anywhere else without it.”

“What is it?”

Rowena started to speak, then stopped. “I don’t really know. All I know is that it was heavily guarded, so it has to be worth something.”

Ornstein sighed. “Dare I ask _where_ you saw this object?”

She looked up towards the sky, then grinned as their eyes met. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

“I hope your armor can withstand unspeakable abominations, Dragon Slayer,” Rowena answered, “because Blighttown is calling our names."  
  



	3. Firelink Chronicles

“You cannot be serious.”

Rowena’s smile only grew at Ornstein’s words. “Why, do I sense a hint of dread, Dragon Slayer?” He remained silent at her question. She held back a giggle and kept her smile up, reveling in his discomfort. “Hmm. I thought someone whose duty it was to kill dragons would not have such trepidation over swamps and disease.”

“It is the pit of Lordran,” he replied, calm but clearly annoyed. “Frankly, I am shocked  _ you _ did not become a part of their corpse population.”

Her smile fell. “I reached the city of the gods on my own. Blighttown may be a pool of filth, but it was not enough to best me permanently. Neither of us would be here, otherwise.” She folded her arms. “However, if you feel so inclined to forsake your given duty, then be my guest.”

She watched Ornstein as he sat there in silence, refusing to answer her. Part of her hoped to the gods he would stand up and leave at that very moment, never to bother her again. But the other part was curiosity, and curiosity had an odd way of interfering with her initial plans. She was about to add on to her statement when he spoke.

“A valiant attempt to get rid of me,” he said, “but a failure nonetheless.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “Fine. But there are a few people I would like to speak to before we go on our way. Most are here, but there is at least one out towards the Undead Parish.” She stood up and brushed herself off. “And yes, I will change my equipment before we leave for Blighttown, if it so placates your irritation.”

“It will take more than  _ that _ to placate my mood,” Ornstein retaliated.

She waved a hand, walking back towards the archways. “If you say so.” When silence met her words, she stepped through the first archway and back up the stairs, this time turning left towards the dying tree.

Kind Laurentius, leaving time aside to teach her pyromancy. Well, it wasn’t so much the time as it was everything else. Despite how much time passed between her visits, though, he was ready and willing to pass on different pyromancies. That and he was always happy to see her. It might have been because of the grim fact that she wasn’t Hollow and he would take whatever sane being was around, but Rowena liked to think it was because she’d been kind to him before. Either way, it was more than she could say for the callous knight she currently had for a travel companion. 

“There you are, Laurentius!” Rowena called, waving as she walked over to the pyromancer in question. 

“Oh, hello,” Laurentius replied, smiling. He glanced away for a moment. “Rowena, was it?”

She sat down and grinned. “You remembered! I must be doing something right if people know my name.”

“Well, you  _ did _ rescue me from that butcher.” He shuddered, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, what can I assist you with?”

“I think my flame could use an upgrade,” she said, “if you would be so kind.”

“Of course.” 

Rowena procured her Pyromancy Flame, and Laurentius set to work inspecting it, as per usual. She tuned in to her surroundings. Firelink was quiet. Then again, it was always calm, with only the slightest hint of a breeze and the tiny crackles of fire. It was almost as if she had never been to Anor Londo, or she had never begun her quest. The only indications of her progress, aside from the obvious eyesore at the bonfire, were the other people migrating to the area. But she couldn’t help checking in on them sometimes. She should have been proud, saving all of these people from grim fates. Twinges of fear pricked at her heart instead.

“Can I ask you something, Rowena?”

Laurentius’ voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She blinked a few times, then nodded. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

He looked up from her hand, scanned his surroundings, then lowered his voice. “Well, um, if you don’t mind me wondering...who  _ was _ that knight that was following you around earlier?”

She took a quick inhale, then let it all out in a short sigh. There wasn’t a good way to explain this.

“I...don’t think you would believe me if I told you,” Rowena started, “but I suppose I can, anyway.” She allowed a brief pause before she continued. “I went to Anor Londo, dwelling place of the gods. It’s beautiful really, but...empty. Despite all of the gorgeous architecture and the golden sun, there’s a sadness to it all.”

She stopped, thinking. Before now, she hadn’t really made that sort of connection. But all of those empty halls and sprawling walkways, and no one was there to drink it all in except for her and the few souls she managed to help. Where there should have been joy, there was...nothing.

“Anyway,” she went on, shaking her head slightly, “I was supposed to find this important object, but there were two beings blocking my path to it. The knight you saw was one of them. Once the other one was defeated, I decided I was done fighting and...well, as embarrassing as this sounds, I asked for mercy. The woman he was guarding granted it...and then decided it was best for him to accompany me. That led us here to Firelink.”

Laurentius simply blinked. “Incredible. And you’re not...frightened at all?”

Another thing she hadn’t really given much thought to. At first? Of course. Constant revival meant nothing when the wrath of the gods was contained within one knight. However, even in this short span of time, her emotions were...muddled. 

She shrugged. “Maybe a little. I’m more angry than anything else, though.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Why angry? It could be good to have someone that powerful on your side.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call him an ally,” Rowena replied. “He is simply fulfilling the request of his charge, and his methods of doing so are...less than desirable.” She shook her head. “But no harm will come to you or anyone in this shrine. And if he attempts to do so, I will kill him like I was meant to in Anor Londo. I hope that’s reassuring.”

“In a way,” he said, patting her hand to let her know the upgrade was finished, “but I hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s enough sorrow without more bloodshed.”

She placed her hand on her lap, putting her flame away. “I suppose you’re right.” After a moment, Rowena got to her feet. “Thank you again, Laurentius. I don’t know how I would hone my pyromancy without you.”

“It’s no trouble, honestly,” he insisted. “And if that knight  _ does _ give you trouble, you can always give him a taste of your flame. The Great Swamp teaches one to burn many things, after all.”

Rowena let out a short, ugly laugh, then covered her mouth to suppress the giggles afterwards. She lowered her hand and sucked in a few bouts of air before responding. “I, um...I don’t know if that will work on him, but I appreciate the advice all the same. Best advice I’ve heard yet.” Laurentius smiled at her words. She turned to leave when he spoke again.

“Rowena.”

She stopped. “Hmm?”

“Don’t you dare go Hollow.”

She took a breath. “You stay safe, too.”

Rowena willed her feet to carry her forward. She meandered down the stairs and through the archway once more, focusing on how the grass rustled and crunched under her armor. The pauldrons of this Silver Knight Armor were really beginning to press into her shoulders. Briefly, as she wandered over to another set of stairs, she wondered if being Undead rendered her immune from bruising. Somehow, she’d never gotten the chance to check. 

A quiet mumbling drew her towards the adjacent set of stairs. If she remembered correctly, it was the way she always took to find the elevators back to the Undead Parish. A group of people, guards for the most part, were standing at attention before she went into Blighttown. There was a young lady, as well, although she wouldn’t tell Rowena anything about what she was up to. Now, all that remained was Petrus, standing amidst some old pottery. 

“Well, this is curious,” Rowena began, startling Petrus out of his stupor. “Where did your guests from earlier wander off to?”

“Uh, oh, you again?” he asked.

Rowena quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, me again. I heard you mumbling to yourself. Is everything alright?”

“Well…er, I’ve become separated from M’Lady. I’ve scoured near and far, but no sight of her...”

She frowned. “How terrible. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

He shook his head. “None. This land is so massive and sprawling, I can barely begin to recall where we were when she became lost. All I know is it was dark and...quite frightening.”

“Hmm. That could be a great many places.” Rowena bit her lip briefly. “I have some traveling to do myself. I can keep an eye out for her, if you’d like. She’s bound to turn up somewhere. Are the other guards with her?”

“Last I checked, yes. But must you burden yourself with this?”

“This is  _ not _ a burden,” she insisted. “Someone important to you is missing in a land swarming with monsters. I’m surprised you have such composure, but nevertheless. Let me look for them. I know Lordran well enough by now...or, at least I should. You stay here in case they come back, alright?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied quickly. “I can only hope for M’Lady’s safe return.”

“And that you shall have.”

Rowena gave Petrus one last nod before wandering back out towards the bonfire. She sighed, mulling things over. Missing people, wandering Undead trying not to go Hollow...it was all so disheartening. However, there wasn’t much else to do except press on and-

“Running errands for the damned, are we?”

She shot a glare at Ornstein, who was just as still at the bonfire as when she left. “They are  _ not _ damned. Not if I can help them.”

“While you actions are admittedly admirable for someone of your ineptitude,” he started, “you cannot help every being you come across. You have your own quest to embark upon.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to let others suffer along the way.” She turned on her heel and walked away from the bonfire again, attempting to reign in her temper as she descended the stairs across the way. Once she reached the bottom, Rowena took a few deep breaths, clenching her hands into fists. Glancing over at the now empty spot near a crumbling wall did her no favors. 

Knight Lautrec used to rest there, biding his time. Thinking. Staring at the Fire Keeper across the way all the while. Everything happened while Rowena slogged through poison and spider webs. Just thinking about his actions made her want to bring him back to life just so she could kill him again. But Anastacia was safe now...as safe as a Fire Keeper could be, anyway. The poor thing was locked away in a tiny cave blocked off by a set of black bars just underneath the bonfire. Anastacia wasn’t really one for talking, but she never complained about Rowena sitting down in front of the bars and chatting about her adventures. At that moment, Rowena desperately craved that sort of company.

“Hello again,” she said softly, situating herself in the grass in front of Anastacia, who kept her face hidden as per usual. “I, um...I don’t really have anything for you to upgrade, but I thought I would bring you something, anyway.” Rowena opened one of her pouches and produced a small collection of fruit. “Berries from Darkroot. No worries, I checked them over for poison already.” She slipped the batch of berries through the bars, then sat back. “I hope your days have been better than mine. I traveled to Anor Londo and came back with an aggravating knight.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face. “I wonder if I can poison him in his sleep.”

“You would be better off poisoning  _ yourself _ , Undead.”

Her right eye twitched. “Pardon me for a moment, Anastacia.” She glared towards Ornstein’s location. “ _ You _ are not a part of this discussion!”

“Then perhaps you should learn the art of  _ subtle _ conversation,” he countered.

She growled under her breath, then turned her gaze away from the direction of the bonfire. “ _ Anyway _ ,” she continued, “it has been quite the interesting time since I came back here. It’s hard to believe I have to go back out so soon. But...I suppose this is what has to be done. According to others I’ve talked to. If it helps people like you and me...well, then it should be worth it.” Rowena smiled a bit. “But I hope that, no matter how far I go, the people here will treat you with kindness. What happened to you at the hands of Lautrec will never happen again. Not as long as I have a say.” A small sigh escaped her mouth. “Well, I should go before the knight above starts to get testy. He tends to do that.” After a slight pause, she got to her feet. “Please take care, Anastacia. I hope those berries are to your liking.”

Rowena started her ascent up the stairs once more, letting out another sigh along the way. Perhaps Ornstein had a point, although she hated to admit it. It was exhausting, talking to everyone and making so many promises. But aside from her quest as the supposed Chosen Undead, what else did she have to strive for? Her former life was fading from memory with every passing day. Slower than some she’d come across, but it seemed inevitable that she would go Hollow unless she continued forward. Despite the hundreds of deaths she had endured, Hollowing was not an outcome she strove to attain. 

And if she could help, it would happen to no one else, either.

She took her seat across from Ornstein, staring into the flames once more. A slight tilt of his head was the only indication she had that he acknowledged her existence at all.

“Quite finished?” Ornstein asked. For once, there was a lack of annoyance in his voice. 

Rowena nodded. “Yes. I, um...I was about to thank you for your patience. Well, despite your occasional comments. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I came back here and you were gone.”

He shook his head. “Believe it or not, duty means something to me. You may prick at the very fabric of my tolerance, but Her Majesty’s command is Her Majesty’s command.”

“In other words, there is no possible way I can be rid of you.”

“Unless Lady Gwynevere deems so, yes.”

Rowena blinked. “Does poisoning count as forsaking your duty?”

“You would not succeed. Gods have attempted far worse against Lord Gwyn’s confidants.”

“And what became of those gods?”

Ornstein leaned forward, the dancing flames reflecting in the teeth of his helmet.

“They died by my spear. Compared to the Executioner’s methods, that was a mercy. In the end, most would beg for it.”

Her eyes widened. She swallowed hard, wringing her hands together. Images from their fight in Anor Londo briefly rushed through her vision. 

“I...can only imagine.” She hated the hesitation in her voice. Rowena cleared her throat. “We should be off, though. The Undead Parish is only a short walk from here. It will be a simple trip.”

That is, if the drake on the bridge finally vacated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended this chapter to be the one where they headed off to Blighttown, but conversations went on longer than planned (thanks Rowena). Blighttown will be next chapter. Stay tuned for the duo's adventures in...disgusting swamps. That sounds about right.


	4. Slayer of Drakes, Traverser of Filth

The bridge to the Undead Parish, much like the portions of Lordran he’d already seen, was in about the same amount of disarray as the Burg. Rotting stairs, moss growing between the cracks in the stonework, and violent Hollows waiting for the opportunity to cut their throats open.

Well, until the drake swooped down from the heavens and burned them alive.

Ornstein glared at Rowena and hoped in vain that the simple act of doing so would kill her. Not that it would do much good, seeing as she would come back, but it would certainly teach her a lesson in informing her unwilling travel companion about raving descendants of dragons taking residence in the middle of their path. If only he had no obligations towards her success…

“Of all of the-” He ducked his head behind the stone wall again as the drake breathed fire for the hundredth time. “Of all of the things you could have forgotten about, you chose _this?_ "

Rowena threw her hands in the air, quickly tucking them back on her lap. They were hidden by the Painting Guardian’s clothes she donned, as the sleeves were just long enough. “Oh, no, how dreadful. It’s as if the Dragon Slayer has never forgotten a _thing_ in his life.” She shifted further into the corner she was hiding in. “Forgive me for not knowing if the damn thing would come _back._ It flew away the first time I was up here. I thought it decided to make a new home elsewhere.”

He scoffed. “You honestly believe a drake to be so fickle?”

“As if you would know this creature _better!_ ”

A booming roar sounded from the bright red beast. Rowena shut her eyes at the noise. Ornstein peeked up over their hiding spot. The accursed thing was curled upon the roof of the church, waiting for the next living thing to wander hopelessly onto the bridge. From that distance, it seemed to be staring right at them, hungry for the slaughter. One of its wings twitched in anticipation.

Rowena looked over the pillar she had been resting against previously. “It stopped.”

“For now,” he replied. “No doubt it will start up again if a mere feather drops onto the bridge.” He stared at the creature, thinking. “I suppose it would be useful to ask how you escaped its clutches the first time.”

“Luck?”

“I meant your method, not whatever gods you prayed to for a dose of competence.”

“No need for prayers when I have my own pair of legs.” She glanced over at him. “Someone must have opened the gate before I got there, so I ran to the entrance and slipped past it once it decided to jump off its’ perch. That’s when it flew off. Clearly, it wasn’t satisfied with that outcome.”

He swore the drake was going to start breathing fire now that the both of them were staring at it. It stayed still, however, aside from a gentle sway of its body. Ornstein studied the arrangement of the beast’s scales, the numerous spines jutting out from its’ back. Not the most dangerous creature he had encountered. Not by far.

Ornstein stood up, continuing to stare at the drake as he spoke. “Do it again.”

“What?” He heard her shuffle to her feet. “Are you insane? How-” She paused. “Oh no. No.”

“Concerned?” he questioned, looking back at Rowena. Her face contorted several times.

“Not for _you_ ,” she spat. “I simply don’t wish to explain to your charge why your charred body is the Undead Parish’s newest decoration.”

“There will be no need.” He jerked his head in the direction of the drake. “Go.”

She groaned, but slipped out towards the bridge. Her fingers flexed against the pillar. “Alright. Three...two…” Rowena inhaled sharply before breaking into a run, letting out a prolonged scream as she did so. He stared after her. While unorthodox, it would have to do. After all, she _did_ secure the drake’s attention.

With a snap of its head, its focus was solely on her. The drake snarled and breathed a steady stream of fire, one that barely grazed Rowena’s clothes as she jumped and dove for the entrance. Ornstein ducked as the fire passed, then rose and briefly noted her presence inside the church before the drake leapt from its perch and landed on the bridge, shaking the foundations. He calmly drew his spear and stepped away from the wall, staring the beast down as it growled at his presence.

“A mere child living in the shadows of its ancestors,” he muttered, walking towards it. It stepped forward in turn, giant claws poised to tear into flesh with every stomp. Ornstein lowered his stance, knees bending as he readied his spear. With one last roar from his draconic adversary, he glided forward within seconds and stabbed his spear into a patch of scales, shattering them upon impact.

A pained screech met his ears. Ornstein swung his weapon into the exposed portion of skin and leapt back. He gauged the angered drake’s movements. Stomps that could crush immediately. A head bash that narrowly scraped the tip of his spear. It took to the skies, breathing another round of flame. He glided to the side of the bridge. The heat of the fire seeped through his armor. It found footing on the bridge once more. That was his opportunity.

He walked back, stepped onto the wall’s edge, then leapt and plunged the spear into the drake’s back. Sparks of lightning emanated from it as it shrieked and writhed. With one yank, he was once again in control of his weapon. Another slash to the neck created a shower of scales, the clacking of them like pebbles against stone. Ornstein twirled his spear and plunged it further into the already flailing drake. He bent his knees, steadying himself on its back. Blood poured from its wounds. It was already losing its vigor. One more attack would-

An arrow flew past his right cheek and landed straight into the creature’s head. One last roar marked its death. A toss of its head threw him onto the stonework. He tumbled to the ground, avoiding a foot as the drake collapsed. Once silence fell upon the area, Ornstein got to his feet, hunting for the source of the killing blow.

There stood Rowena at the entrance to the Parish, longbow still drawn. She lowered it and waved once. Ornstein glanced back at the now slain drake, then sighed and started his walk towards the Parish.

“So,” he began, putting his spear away, “you have some skill, after all.”

She placed her bow on her back and folded her arms. “It was about to toss you off of the bridge.”

“And how would you know if you have only laid eyes upon the beast once before?”

“Believe it or not, Dragon Slayer,” she said, “humans are _also_ capable of memorizing a creature’s patterns when exposed long enough.”

“And I suppose you count yourself among this group?”

Her left eye twitched. “Perhaps next time, a wound will teach you to be thankful.”

She spun on her heel and stalked towards an archway in the wall, just to the right of a statue of a mother and child. Ornstein followed her after a moment’s pause, walking through to find the area cluttered with Hollow in the shadow of an overhang. Strangely enough, none of them were hostile, either beating the wall or otherwise staring off into empty space. Rowena paid them no mind and instead slowed her stride as she ascended a small group of stairs. At the top was a balcony of sorts, covered in grass and flowers from end to end with a dark, broken statue in the middle. A cracked hand held firmly to the statue’s spear-like weapon, and a pair of feet stood defiantly on their platform. With the way the sun’s rays fell, the balcony felt more like an abandoned shrine or altar than anything else. Perhaps, at one point, it was meant to compliment the set up inside, but time and destruction had worn it down to nothing.

Rowena, however, was more interested in the person standing to the right of the statue. Ornstein squinted. They looked to be a knight of sorts, one he recognized from her pitiful attempt in Anor Londo. Although they seemed nothing but a spirit at the time, they were nothing but real now, donned in simple armor. A silver squarish helmet with a red feather covered their face, save for their eyes. Green, leaf-like cloth rested on their shoulders, and white guarded their torso, along with an emblem of the sun. Chain mail covered the rest of their body, along with a pair of basic silver boots. Everything about this knight emanated inexperience. Yet, from what he witnessed in the cathedral, they were much more capable than their appearance led him to believe. Ornstein's eyes drifted back towards the all too familiar emblem. A pained lump formed in his throat. He quickly dismissed his reaction.

“There you are, Solaire!” Rowena exclaimed, all frustration fading from her face. “Good to see you made it out of Anor Londo alive.”

Solaire turned his gaze away from the sky. “Oh, hello there.” He looked briefly in Ornstein’s direction. “I see you’ve taken the adage of jolly cooperation to heart. And all without a summoning sign!”

She blinked. “Um, well...yes, I suppose, but I would call it ‘tolerable’ rather than ‘jolly’. It wasn’t in my plans.”

He let out a short laugh. “These things never are, Rowena. You’ll find that allies are tucked away in the strangest places, even ones you dared not look in on your own.” Rowena nodded a bit. “But forgive me, I’ve been...pondering.”

“About what, if I may ask?” she inquired.

“About my poor fortune,” Solaire replied, a twinge of sadness in his voice. “I did not find my own sun, not in Anor Londo, nor in Twilight Blighttown. Where else might my sun be? Lost Izalith, or the Tomb of the Gravelord?”

She fiddled with her fingers. “Well, it _is_ quite the daunting task, finding your own sun. Perhaps it’s not an actual sun, but more...something that resembles a sun.” She shook her head. “Regardless, it has to be out there somewhere.”

Solaire nodded. “Of course. I became Undead to pursue this!” Ornstein tilted his head slightly, but remained silent on the issue. Rowena allowed the knight to continue uninterrupted. “But when I peer at the Sun up above, it occurs to me...What if I am seen as a laughing stock, as a blind fool without reason?” He paused, then laughed a bit. “Well, I suppose they wouldn’t be far off!”

Rowena shrugged. “Maybe some do. But I believe you will find it, perhaps just not in the place you would expect. What else is there to do but keep searching?”

Ornstein blinked a few times, watching the conversation. For someone who seemed to despise her own journey, she was extremely optimistic about the journeys of others. Perhaps _too_ optimistic. She was heavily invested in their lives, but to what end? What did she seek to gain from it all, if anything? He was hard-pressed to believe she was being kind purely for the sake of it. Of course, he had witnessed more dubious methods of gaining an advantage, but not by much. Then again, a royal command guaranteed nothing as far as the other party’s morals were concerned. Assuming he could stand her long enough, he resigned himself to puzzling out her motivations as they went along.

“I suppose you’re right,” Solaire finally agreed, posture straightening slightly. “It only means I’ll have to search further. No sense standing here when my sun could be waiting at any given corner!” He put a hand on Rowena’s shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. “We shall meet again, friend. Perhaps by then, both of us will have found what we are searching for.”

She smiled. It was an expression so genuine, so devoid of malice, Ornstein had difficulty determining if this was the same Undead who threatened to kill him every five steps. One look at the charred ends of her clothing, however, reminded him that she was one and the same.

“I do hope so,” Rowena said quietly. She patted Solaire’s hand. “Please take care of yourself on your travels.”

She seemed to linger a little longer than Ornstein anticipated, taking one last look at Solaire before departing back towards the bonfire without another word. He paused, then calmly took his leave. By the time he stepped inside, Rowena was seated on the ground by the flames, staring blankly into them.

“I wasn’t aware one could _choose_ to be cursed,” he said.

“Neither was I,” she muttered. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then returned to their habitually annoyed state. “Regardless, he has his quest and I have mine. I can only hope _one_ of us succeeds, at least.”

“Then you are through delaying the inevitable?”

Rowena glared. “Don’t sound so eager. You will be regretting this impatience the moment you step into Blighttown.”

~~~~~~

Ornstein did not feel regret so much as he did disgust.

While he internally commended Rowena for handling the lumbering Undead in the tunnel as surprisingly well as she did, he stood there baffled as she bent down and scooped up their waste material after each kill. He continued to stare while she gathered the last one and straightened up, turning around to face him.

“What?”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“...Is that necessary?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is _what_ necessary?”

He gestured towards her designated bag. “ _That_.”

Rowena snorted, then shrugged. “I hate them as much as the next Undead, but they’re good for sending my enemies into a spiraling fit of toxicity. And yes, before you ask, I found a few herbs to mask the scent. Despite how much I despise your presence, I wouldn’t make you suffer _that_ much.”

“Ah, how kind of you,” Ornstein retorted.

“I think so, yes.” She grinned at him briefly before letting her face fall again, then turned and continued down the tunnel. By all of the gods, she was fortunate he was loyal to Gwynevere’s wishes.

Rowena stopped at the end, looking over the edge. He stood next to her, drinking in the sight before them. Wooden plank after wooden plank were lined up next to each other in a haphazard manner, creating platforms in tandem with the rickety, rotting beams holding them up. The same kind of wood lined the walls, and the only sources of light upon this godforsaken makeshift structure were small torches that pinpointed where the path ended and the pit began. Ahead of them looked to be an alcove of some sort, perhaps the former dwelling place of a now decaying soul, littered with wooden wheels and dirt-encrusted pottery.

“Alright,” she breathed, stepping onto the platform in question. “A few ladders down, then I can show those snipers what for.”

“Snipers?” he asked.

“Yes.” She pulled out a small pouch and tossed it behind her. He caught it with ease. “Those cheats assaulted me with poison blow darts. There are a few moss clumps in that pouch. Eat one if you start to feel ill. Lucky I stopped by the kindly woman behind the bars before venturing to Anor Londo.”

They came upon a ladder illuminated by another torch. Rowena quickly climbed down, then strode over to another one. Ornstein studied his surroundings closer as he followed her. He was beginning to think the wood and other objects were not covered in dirt, but in another sort of filth. He settled on it being dried blood before his mind could jump to other conclusions. Surely there had been enough slaughter in this place to constitute that being a plausible-

A short screech echoed from the bottom of the second ladder, followed by the sound of metal slicing flesh and the gurgling of a dying creature. Ornstein crouched down and peeked through the hole the ladder was settled in. Rowena stood over the corpse of a spider-like creature, panting and clutching her scimitar. He shook his head and descended towards her level, about to let a sarcastic remark fly about her demeanor when he got a better look at the corpse up close.

What he had previously taken for a simple large spider was in fact the utter opposite. It had the body and spindly legs of a spider, but these characteristics were coupled with a pair of wings. Upon further inspection, a set of legs were human hands, and from the body dangled a humanoid head. Ornstein bit back a shudder, taking a breath as he looked back up at Rowena.

“Satisfied?” he managed to say after a moment’s silence.

She gave him a short nod. “Quite.” A quick exhale left her mouth. “Forgot about these monstrosities. After all of that time wandering between ladders, I thought I would-”

Rowena let out a sharp gasp in place of a finished sentence. Wings beat furiously behind him, creating a buzzing sound near his right side. Before he could think further, his hand whipped backwards, sending the insect flying into the wall. The bug exploded upon impact, showering both of them in blood. Rowena cringed at the contact while Ornstein took a moment to regret his decision wholeheartedly.

“...Right,” he muttered, shaking the blood off of his hand.

Rowena spit on the platform, half of her face now coated red. “Have I mentioned I hate you?”

“The feeling is mutual. Lead on.”

She growled an obscenity under her breath, then continued down the sequence of ladders. The rest of their descent was uneventful, and Rowena’s mood seemed to lift at the sight of a narrow path to the right of the final ladder. She dusted her hands off and crept towards an opening in the wall.

“As far as I know,” she whispered, “they shouldn’t be able to see us from- _ow!_ ” She reached down and yanked a dart out of her arm.

“Come again?” Ornstein asked.

“Shut your mouth and help me kill these damn things!”

Rowena drew her scimitar again and rushed forward, rounding a corner further into the stone tunnel. Ornstein leapt to the other side, traversing another gap once he was there. He deflected a dart with a single sweep of his hand, then grabbed his spear and jabbed it into the sniper. Another dart hit him from behind, slipping between a space in his armor. He winced and turned around. A sniper was planted on the ground. Lightning formed on the end of his spear and shot out towards them, shocking them and whatever enemies were surrounding them. He jumped back over to the original side and peeked around the corner. Rowena was gone...or so he thought, until he looked down just in time to see her slash a fire-breathing dog to death. She paused, scanned her surroundings, then reached into the bars behind her and picked up a glowing object.

“Got it!” she called. “I knew it was a Fire Keeper’s Soul!”

“And you knew this how?”

“I caught a glimpse before I was burned to death. It has a certain glow to it.” She tucked it into a larger bag. “Now we can leave this forsaken place behind.”

Ornstein waited for her to wander back up and around, then continued back on the path they came from. He stopped once he reached the ladder. It was too quiet. He glanced to his left. Rowena was staring out at the swamp below.

“For someone that was eager to leave this place, you do like to linger,” he commented.

“I...I thought I saw someone.” She squinted, then took a step back. “Wait. I do. They weren’t there before.” Another step forward. “There!” Rowena pointed towards one of the distant columns. “The glint of armor!” She walked towards the ledge and glanced at Ornstein. “I need to take a detour.”

“Do you honestly think-”

Rowena jumped off of the ledge before he could speak another word. He peered over the edge of the path, watching her fall to her death. The resounding thud almost made him cringe. However, she would come back. Unfortunately.

Ornstein sat on the path, resigning himself to waiting for her. He carefully pulled the dart out of his skin, fingers just small enough to reach in the crack. The projectile was tiny, but effective. He tossed it over the edge. He recalled her mentioning she needed the object she was seeking for her flask. Now that he knew it was a Fire Keeper’s Soul, it made more sense. He had enough knowledge of the Undead to know how they so prized their flasks, how Fire Keepers could strengthen the effects of these objects. Although, if all Undead were as aggravating as the one he was meant to follow, it was no wonder Allfather Lloyd created those talismans to hunt them down.

He was still reeling over Rowena’s leap into the swamp. Not because of any concern for her, but because of the idiocy of it all. Who would knowingly throw themselves over an edge just to save a person who was most likely meant to die?

Then again, he could think of a few.

He shook his head. It changed nothing about Rowena committing the act.

A small figure sprinted across the swamp. He followed them with his eyes. Although covered with poisonous water, he recognized Rowena running towards the tiny glint in the distance. It took her an age and a day to reach the other party, but she nearly fell over once she did so. She seemed to be talking to them, perhaps giving them something. After a few minutes of her remaining nearly stock still, she turned, waving in Ornstein’s direction. How she could see him from this distance was a miracle in itself, but stranger things had happened in the past.

He stood up and walked back in the direction from whence they came, sidestepping the insects intent on following him. If the blood staining his armor and the scathing Undead were any indication, it was going to be a long and arduous journey ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that took longer than I expected it to. Sorry for the wait, guys. Life and Bloodborne kind of ate my soul. Hopefully updates will be a little more regular now. In the meantime, look forward to more adventures with this dysfunctional duo!


	5. Strolling Amongst Skeletons

Rowena hoped to never set foot near this particular bonfire again.

It was difficult enough navigating the Catacombs as it was the first time she entered them. Between the walking skeletons slicing her every step of the way and the strange necromancers raising them from their graves, it was a journey riddled with burns and many instances of fatally jumping off of a ledge in order to avoid screaming, exploding heads. 

Not to mention the treacherous snake that was-

“Patches,” she growled, running her hand along the tiny cave wall as she walked down the stairs. “If I ever lay eyes upon the bastard again, I’ll fashion him a set of broken teeth with my fist. See how well he lies, then.”

“You were fooled by a man named... _ Patches _ .”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “And I’m being followed by a man named  _ Ornstein _ . Honestly, who thought that was a good name?”

“That does not have anything to do with the fact that you were tricked by a  _ Patches _ , of all humans.”

“What, am I supposed to suspect  _ every _ person with a strange name? If I did that, there would be no one left to trust.” She shoved a strand of hair out of her face. “Besides, he seemed friendly enough at the time. Perhaps not too fond of clerics, but civil. That is, until he flipped the bridge while I was walking across it and nearly fed me to the spikes. No amount of humanity will make me forget-”

She nearly screamed at the spike trap activating directly in front of her, just stopping short of its deadly points. Rowena stared as the spikes retracted, then breathed a long sigh of relief.

“Forgetting something?”

She turned her head slightly to glare at Ornstein. “Hmm, yes I am. You just reminded me to push you into a pit at the next opportunity. Thank you for that.” Her hands relaxed from their balled positions as she set her gaze forward again, carefully stepping as far away from the trap as possible. 

“At this rate,” Ornstein began, walking through as though no trap existed in the first place, “I think  _ you _ will be the first one to fall into a pit.”

“Why, are you going to push me?”

“No action is necessary on my part. You die just fine on your own.”

Rowena sighed, staring out at the waterfall. Despite the churning waters falling deep into the depths of the Catacombs, she was strangely at peace watching it. Her eyes drifted to the walls towering high above them. They looked to be perfectly excavated, all of the stone patterns smooth in one direction and colored with different shades of the earth. Then again, she supposed it had to be if a civilization was going to store their dead somehow other than the traditional burial method. But why such a strong concentration of the dead? And the number of necromancers bent on bringing them back to life? 

She let her questions linger internally as she looked up at the ledge with the switch to turn the bridge. Patches was nowhere to be found. A good thing, at least for him. It gave her more time to think about exactly what she would do to him if she ever saw him again. If. Part of her desperately wanted to enact revenge on the bastard. It would make her feel better about not having the ability to take on Ornstein for his unwanted commentary. The other part implored her to forget about searching for the devious leech and move on with her tasks. Knocking every single one of Patches’ teeth out wouldn’t get her far in acquiring all of the souls necessary for the Lordvessel.

By the heavens, though, it would feel  _ fantastic _ .

“Why all the way down here?” Rowena finally asked.

“What?” 

She turned to face Ornstein. “Why would a Gravelord choose to reside all the way in the depths of the earth? If he’s a lord over the dead, surely he can make his home wherever he pleases and the dead can come to him.”

He folded his arms. “If you haven’t noticed, the dead prefer staying underground, mostly.”

“That doesn’t-” Rowena stopped herself. “...Are you implying that this Gravelord is _actually_ _dead?_ ”

“The First of the Dead, to be precise.”

Rowena shook her head and turned away from him, starting her walk towards the bridge. “No. I don’t believe that for a  _ moment _ .”

“What is there not to believe?”

She snorted, taking a moment to glance over the side of the bridge. “Honestly, do you expect me to be taken in by some twisted tale of a Gravelord that’s completely made of bone or a pile of corpses or some other far-fetched thing?”

“...If you were, you wouldn’t be far off.”

Rowena dismissed Ornstein’s comment and continued walking. By the time she entered the doorway on the other side, there were two skeletons standing in front of it that were all too eager to stab her.

“Choke on your own bones, will you?” She drew her scimitar and sliced them into submission. Something about the clattering of bones against stone both pleased and disturbed her. “If I hadn’t come here before this mess started, there would still be necromancers milling about.”

“Ah, so you  _ are _ capable of making sound decisions.”

“As well as any human, yes.”

“That doesn’t say much about your kind.”

“And your actions don’t say much for yours. I suppose we’re even, in that regard.”

She carefully made her way out towards the next part of the path. The details of the rock walls were even clearer here. Large black stripes alternated with lighter, bumpier ones, almost like someone had meticulously painted them bit by bit. The stone beneath their feet was green enough to almost be mistaken for grass or moss, and for a brief moment, Rowena thought herself back at the surface, free from roaming skeletons and odd rumors of who or what Gravelord Nito was.

As soon as she finished winding around another spike trap, though, more skeletons rolled towards her like trained soldiers. She wondered if they were at one point, or if the forces that brought them to their feet demanded they take on those roles at a moment’s notice. After hacking at them a few times, she decided it was best not to think on it. The dead were meant to be left to rest.

Most of the time, anyway. 

“There.” She peered over the side of the broken pathway in front of them. “I fell down there last time.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“I thought running away from all of the skeletons would be better than actually fighting them. To my credit, it worked for a time. Just...not when I fell.” A small sigh puffed out of her mouth. “Not that I relish jumping down here again, but it is a shortcut…” Rowena opened one of her pouches and procured a Prism Stone. She had more than she could count, and she couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t been using more of them. She shrugged, chalked it up to their pretty patterns, and tossed the stone over the edge. It shattered upon impact, leaving a pleasant green glow behind. Otherwise, there was nothing but silence in its wake. Rowena took a sharp inhale and stepped off of the ledge, holding her breath until she made contact with stone and rolled.

“Gah!” Rowena clutched her left knee, which had taken more of an impact with the ground than she would have liked. Death would probably make the injury disappear, but she didn’t fancy taking another deadly plunge just to heal herself. She sat up just as Ornstein landed beside her, uninjured as always. 

“Have you thought of-”

“No.” Rowena got to her feet. “I don’t need your advice,  _ especially _ if you’re going to insult me with it.”

“If you did not need my aid, then why did Her Majesty  _ insist _ on my accompanying you?”

Her fingers tensed, then relaxed. Any reply she thought of sank back into the depths of her mind. Perhaps it was for the better. 

She turned without saying another word and jumped again, this time landing properly on the stone beneath her. A dull ache pulsed from her injured knee, but it was nothing worse than the multiple stab wounds she had already endured. A skeleton with a wheel walked by. She drew her bow and shot it in the skull, shattering bone. Although it was strange that arrows worked against skeletons, she wasn’t about to completely write off their effects. It was a useful thing to know, seeing how poorly she fared the first time she found this place. 

Rowena hopped down and set off into a run, weaving around the skeletons that were intent on mowing her down with their deadly wheels. She had neither the time nor the patience for them, and she would show that damn knight that she could indeed wander through this chasm of the dead without so much as a  _ scrap _ of his help. If she could talk her way to victory in Anor Londo, there was no reason she could not do the same for Gravelord-

She fell through the air, letting out a yelp before she landed next to a shallow pool of water. Rowena let her pain subside before she stood up, cursing herself internally for her lack of attention. 

The room was just as she’d left it. Piles of dusty books lined the walls around and behind the altar on the other side. Brittle skeletons still hung from their ropes and hooks on the ceiling, keeping watch with their empty sockets. On the altar itself still sat a different skeleton, one that was being experimented upon by whatever she fought against previously. Staring at the place it, or they, once stood filled her with a peculiar sadness.

“I thought you would know to watch your footing by now.”

Rowena jumped at Ornstein’s voice. “No, I...I mean yes, but…” She sighed. “I fought something down here before. I didn’t know who or what they were, but their magic was similar to the necromancers I encountered. They seemed human.”

“Seemed?”

“It...it’s hard to explain. They sounded human, but wore strange masks. Almost like they were trying to cover up their deformity, whatever it looked like beneath their robes.” She glanced at him. “Do you know anything about necromancers going too far with their abilities?”

“Some would argue necromancers stray too far simply by practicing their craft.” Ornstein shrugged. “Many a being have tried to sap power from the gods. Perhaps this was another unfortunate instance.”

She frowned, staring back at the altar. Twinges of sympathy pricked at her heart for the malformed being, for the necromancer that held onto that Rite of Kindling for reasons unknown. She hoped that, in death, they would find some semblance of peace.

“There’s a ladder over there,” Rowena commented, abruptly changing the subject. “It looks to be our best chance of finding the Gravelord.”

A few strides in sloshing water brought her to the ladder in question. It was cleverly hidden within the stonework. At first glance, she didn’t think it was one at all. Upon closer inspection, however, wooden grips stood out against the rest of the wall, allowing for easy climbing. She clambered up, then walked over to another ladder and climbed further, Ornstein not far behind. Upon reaching the top, Rowena wished she never ventured down here in the first place.

Everything was shrouded in darkness. Complete and utter darkness. She expected wall-mounted torches to light their way, but the ones who built this place clearly did not account for visitors. The only thing that resembled a light source was a trail of broken Prism Stones, each glowing in different colors. The one in front of her was pink. 

“Well,” she started, “this is less than optimal.”

“Has anything ever been in your favor?” Ornstein asked, traces of annoyance in his voice.

“Yes, but it’s not often I’m asked to go into the graves of the dead and retrieve a soul. I don’t believe that’s favorable for anyone.” She patted one of her pouches. “But I have a solution.”

“Do you, now?”

Rowena sheathed her scimitar and pulled a small, skull-shaped lantern out of the pouch in question. It gave off enough light to guide their way, which was enough for her. Ornstein, however, did not seem impressed. 

“...This is your solution?”

She made a face. “It’s not ideal, but I know you would rather not waste your lightning powers on creating a light source.”

“How will you fight?”

“...Carefully.”

“Oh, of course. How promising.”

“It’s either this or we stumble around in the dark until one of us falls to the bottom. Make your choice, Dragon Slayer.”

She stared at him intently as he deliberated. Sometimes, she wondered what he looked like beneath that helmet, what sort of expressions he could be making in response to her actions. Perhaps he had a pretty face she could bludgeon, given the opportunity. He let out an exasperated sigh before she could think any more on the subject.

“ _ Fine, _ ” he said, drawing his spear. “But you will make  _ every effort _ to employ your shield when the situation arises.”

“It would be unusual of me  _ not  _ to.”

Rowena turned and began following the path of Prism Stones, her lantern illuminating the ground beneath them. She quickly came upon a slope, one that seemed out of place with the rest of the visible scenery.

“Is this…” She traveled to the bottom of the slope and came upon a structure very similar to it that was standing upright and ajar. She swallowed hard. “That was a coffin.”

“We’ve entered the Tomb of the Giants, it seems,” Ornstein commented. 

“The Tomb of-” She blinked. “You know this place?”

“I know  _ of _ it,” he corrected. “It was mentioned in passing numerous times, though I never set foot in it until now.”

“Hmm.” She studied the standing coffin further. “Desecrating tombs. Not something I planned to do in my lifetime, but they give us no other choice.”

Rowena wandered past the coffin and further down the path until she collided with a giant skeleton. She automatically swung at the enemy, but only managed to leave a tiny singe mark on one of its bones. 

“Oh.” She inhaled. “Right.”

Before the skeleton could smack her off of the path, she dove beneath its legs and scrambled forward, dashing towards the next slope. Crackles of electricity echoed around her as she climbed on the coffin lid. Almost immediately, she lost traction and began to slide down much to her unpleasant surprise. She stumbled off at the end, then ran to another lid and slid down it, thankfully a shorter journey this time. Her feet landed firmly on the ground beneath her, and she pushed some loose hairs out of her face. 

“Alright,” she breathed, “that wasn’t so-”

A bony hand smacked into her stomach, knocking her off of her feet. Rowena took a moment to catch her breath and grab her lantern again. Two skeletons stalked towards her, sharp swords in hand. Just as she got to her feet, one of the skeletons jumped to the side, falling to their second death. Rowena bit back a laugh, but quickly remembered there was another skeleton to be dealt with. It swung its sword towards her face. She slipped to the left and ran past it.

“Another day, Rowena,” she mumbled as she slid down another coffin lid. “Another day, you can slash at their crumbling legs and-”

She tumbled face first into the ground, lantern and shield clattering beside her. After a moment of feeling the grooves of rock on her cheek, she sat up and collected her things. Across the way was a ladder, its dark edges just barely sticking out above the ledge. Rowena stood up and walked over to it, carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Now, just have to sneak around this corner and-heavens above, is that a  _ bonfire? _ ”

Rowena held out her lantern further. Sure enough, the telltale sword was sticking out of the ground. She let out a giddy laugh, then rushed over, promptly lit it, and sat down. Relief washed over her mind, and a stream of giggles left her mouth. She picked up the lantern and looked at its glowing eye sockets.

“And he said I couldn’t make it on my own,” she whispered, another laugh slipping past her lips.

“Are you conversing with your lantern?” 

Rowena screeched, almost throwing the lantern into the bonfire. She looked up. Ornstein was peering over the ledge at her. 

“And if I was?” she retorted, unable to get rid of the slight quiver in her voice.

“Then I would be right about  _ something _ ,” he replied, jumping down to her level. “I’m amazed you’ve survived this long without a proper weapon, though, and I don’t know whether to attribute your success to actual skill or severely dumb luck.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How were those skeletons?”

“Easy enough to defeat, although the human above us would be better off heading back to the surface.”

“Wait.” She sat up straight. “There’s another human up there?”

“Yes. He’s hard to miss. Are you that blind?”

Rowena scrambled to her feet and ran to the ladder, quickly climbing until she could see about the ledge. There was when all of her anger from earlier came rushing back to her.

“Mother of all-” She growled, sliding back down the ladder. “I’m going to kill him.”

“That’s surprising for you,” Ornstein said. “I take it you’re going to do it with your lantern?”

“If it’s a slow and painful death, then yes.” She folded her arms. “That man up there is Patches, and he’s a damn fiend. If he so much as  _ tries _ to trick me again-”

“Perhaps it was a misunderstanding,” Ornstein suggested, although Rowena didn’t know how much he actually believed in his own words. 

“What, turning over the bridge like that? It takes  _ actual effort _ to activate that switch. There was no way he could have ‘accidentally’ pushed it in place.”

“Coercion?”

“By skeletons?”

“You have been frightened by less.”

“Bite your tongue, Dragon Slayer.” 

“I am merely recommending a path of peace. You have already made a mess of navigating this tomb. It would not pay to make an unnecessary enemy.”

Rowena grumbled under her breath. “Alright. But if he turns on me again, I will have  _ you _ to blame.”

She turned on her heel and slowly ascended again, this time none too eager to see a familiar face. Her nails dug into every rung on the ladder, taking her frustrations out on the wood for the time being. 

Of all of the places to run into this blemish on humanity, it had to be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did not mean for this chapter to take so long, but things happen and life just loves to kick me in the butt at the most inopportune times. Anyway, I'm truly amazed at the feedback this fic has gotten so far, even when my updates are kind of sparse. Thank you guys so much for reading and commenting, and I hope you continue to enjoy this duo's adventures!


	6. Tomb of Betrayal

Ornstein let out a small sigh as he followed Rowena up the ladder. If her actions were tiresome before this, he had a feeling they were about to become all the more intolerable. 

There was one thing he had learned about this Undead so far: her level of stubbornness made her borderline impossible to negotiate with. When she had her mind set on a certain task, she would not let  _ anything _ stand in the way of completing it, even if that resulted in her death. If she were anyone else, this would have been quite the admirable trait, something he sought traces of in loyal knights during the bright days of the Age of Fire. However, she was Rowena: the irritating Undead with a penchant for mishaps, a blindness to her abilities, and a toxic tongue. Nothing about her methods was neither admirable nor sane.

Rowena trudged forward. Ornstein caught a brief glimpse of her face. The only emotion he could make out was pure, unadulterated malice. Thus far, even he had not garnered quite the same amount of hatred from her. Loyalty was important to her, it seemed, and this supposed breach of trust committed by this Patches fellow was enough to revoke her compassion. 

The man himself did not appear the sort to be called Patches from birth. His bald head reflected the light coming from Rowena’s lantern, and he donned a dark set of sturdy leather armor. He held a spear in his right hand, although it was not the most impressive weapon of its kind, and a greatshield in his left. Unless the man had inordinate strength, it had to weigh less than other greatshields. Upon closer inspection, Ornstein noted the eagle design on the front of it. Overall, this Patches seemed ordinary enough. Rowena, however, refused to see otherwise. She was already shouting before Ornstein could stop her.

“ _ You! _ ” she yelled, her anger echoing in the vast void of the tomb. 

Patches turned his head to look at her, the slightest glint of fear in his eyes. Ornstein wasn’t sure if that was due to Rowena’s fury or his own presence. Patches covered his emotions rather quickly and pasted a smile onto his face.

“Well, well!” he started. “You’ve been a stranger. Good to see you’re well, mate.”

“ _ Well?! _ ” She stopped just a few paces from Patches. “You have no  _ concept _ of that word. You should be  _ thanking the gods _ that I have a single  _ grain _ of patience for your existence, otherwise you would be far beyond-”

“ _ Rowena _ .”

She inhaled slightly at Ornstein’s sudden interruption. Her fingers tightened around her lantern’s handle. She turned her head ever so slightly. Her brown eyes casted metaphorical daggers in his direction, but she said nothing. Perhaps she had acknowledged, for once, that his assistance was for the better, however slight it may be. 

“Looks like your friend has a point, eh?” Patches commented.

Rowena snapped her gaze back towards Patches. “He is  _ not _ -” She stopped herself, then sighed. “No. I will not stoop so low and argue that detail with you. It’s none of your business, anyway.” She put her shield away and crossed her arms. “What are you doing down here? Surely you didn’t think this was the way out of the Catacombs.”

“Alright, you caught me,” he replied. “You came just in time, actually. I’ve been looking for trinkets and such, and there’s a fine stash right down that hole. “ He gestured towards the pit on his right. “I was going to take it all for myself, but we’re friends now, and I’ve done you wrong. The least I can do is give it to a fine lady such as yourself.”

She snorted. “You think flattery will sway me. How cute.”

“Nah, just tellin’ the truth. I don’t offer treasure to  _ everyone _ , you know. Have a look!”

Rowena paused and thought for a moment. Now that the conversation had progressed slightly, Ornstein was beginning to have his doubts. The offer sounded too generous for someone that was hunting for it in the first place. He had come across enough similar people to know that much. Still, if it was simply an offer to observe now and collect later, then perhaps Patches’ earlier infractions were mistakes, after all. However, he was not going to make any decisions on the matter. The offer was Rowena’s alone. 

“I...suppose it wouldn’t hurt to look,” she finally decided.

“Now that’s more like it!” Patches exclaimed. “You can see it best when you stand on that ledge over there. But don’t look too hard, now. It’ll shimmer you blind…”

She glanced between himself and Patches before walking towards the ledge in question, the glowing remnants of a Prism Stone marking the spot. Rowena knelt down, set aside her lantern, and put her hands on the ground, peering ever so slightly into the hole. Of all of the times she chose to proceed with caution, it was this one. Then again, Ornstein couldn’t blame her too much for it. Patches was standing closer to her now. Her arms tensed upon his approach. 

“Hmm,” she started. “You certainly weren’t lying about the treasure. There  _ is _ a great deal of it.” She carefully got to her feet, picking up her lantern again. “Well, perhaps we can come to some sort of-”

A sharp yelp of surprise left Rowena’s throat as Patches forcefully kicked her off of the ledge. Her lantern flew out of her hand as she fell. There was a brief moment of silence. Ornstein cringed at the sound of her harsh impact with the ground. Patches let out an echoing string of cackles.

“This is what I do, my friend!” he proclaimed. “The trinkets I’ll be stripping off your corpse; that’s the  _ real _ treasure!” He laughed again and stepped away from the ledge, although he eyed Ornstein carefully as silence filled in once more. “Hmph. Didn’t even move to stop me.”

Ornstein shook his head. “I am a proprietor of allowing others to make their own mistakes. Just now, I permitted you to make a fine error, indeed.”

“What are you-”

“ _ YOUR HIDE IS MINE, YOU THIEVING BASTARD! _ ”

Patches visibly jumped at Rowena’s screeching fury. “How did she-”

“ _ YOU SOILED YOUR CHANCE! THE VERY SECOND I FIND MY WAY BACK UP THERE, YOU HAD BEST BE GONE, OR YOU WILL NO LONGER HAVE LEGS TO STAND ON!” _

Patches gulped and glanced at Ornstein again. “What, you going to kill me now?”

Ornstein approached the ledge. “Although you have made my journey  _ increasingly difficult _ , I will not be the one to dole out punishment. That would be too much of a kindness.” The sound of metal crushing bone and screeches of anguish pierced the air. He turned his head to look at Patches. “Instead, should we encounter you again, I will leave that task to Rowena. Surely you can handle such a lively young woman.”

Before Patches could reply, Ornstein leapt off the ledge and landed gracefully at the bottom of the hole. He glanced to his right. Rowena’s lantern was still on the ground, which meant she was fighting skeletons in the dark. He sighed, walked over and picked it up. The minute he turned to find Rowena, she was standing right behind him, panting. 

“Did you forget something?” he asked, holding the lantern out to her.

“No.” She snatched it from his hand. “Anger does funny things.”

“If you want to call survival instincts a funny thing to forget, I suppose so.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m going to find the way back up so I can teach that steaming pile of dragon dung a lesson.”

“Hmm. Dragon dung,” Ornstein commented. “That is far too nice an insult.”

Rowena blinked. “...What?”

“If you’re going to degrade your adversary, half of the battle is finding the most scathing insult to toss their way. That is not  _ nearly _ harsh enough.”

She snickered. “ _ Someone _ is bitter.”

“Anyone that interferes with my duty invokes my ire.”

“Then I suppose we have a common enemy, for once.” She walked past him, then stopped. “Wait. I think there’s someone over there.”

“Not your trusty friend Patches, I take it?”

“Decidedly not,” she replied with an undertone of disdain. “Someone else. I think I-” She gasped after a few more steps. “It’s her!”

“Who?”

“Rhea! The lady from Thorolund!” 

Before he could ask Rowena anything else on the matter, she rushed ahead and knelt down in front of a lady clothed entirely in white, almost knocking over her lantern in the process. Ornstein followed, taking care to stay relatively close. The lady herself looked to be a cleric from a distant land, although rather young to be taking on such a journey.

“There you are, Rhea!” Rowena exclaimed, startling Rhea. 

“You’re no Hollow, are you?” Rhea inquired, her voice quivering. 

“No, no,” Rowena reassured, her tone abnormally gentle, considering the anger still coursing through her. “Not at all. I’m the Undead from the Shrine. Do you remember?”

Rhea paused for a moment. “...Yes. Rowena. The one who kept asking me questions.”

“What a surprise,” Ornstein commented. Rowena shot him a glare.

“Are you hurt?” Rowena continued. 

“No, thank goodness. It is not me you should be worrying about.”

Rowena shook her head. “That’s absurd. Why would you say such a thing?”

“Please, listen to me.” Rowena quieted. “There are two fierce Hollows not far from here. They were once brave knights...my former escorts. Who would let such strong spirits be Hollowed so? Heavens...is there nothing...nothing at all to be done?”

Rowena frowned at Rhea’s words. “This curse is a fiend in itself, Rhea. It takes what it wants and gives us nothing but sorrow. Still, there are ways to combat it.” She patted Rhea’s hand. “Please, stay here and let us clear the path. We...we will give them their due rest.” 

Her voice faltered as she spoke those last few words. She got to her feet and turned towards the dark path in front of them. After a few steps, she stopped. 

“You hesitate,” Ornstein said.

She inhaled just loud enough to be heard. “They were human once. Living, breathing people. I don’t expect you to sympathize with the current plight of humanity, but please...allow me a moment to process what I have to do.”

He stared at her as she used those moments of silence for herself. In a way, it was puzzling. Rowena had no doubt slaughtered countless Undead. She said so herself when she was negotiating her passage to Gwynevere. Yet, here she was, steeling herself for the inevitable. Perhaps it was because she knew of the life these escorts had before, even if the information she did have was scattered and vague. Perhaps witnessing those small scraps was enough for her to shiver at the thought of snuffing out the remnants. 

Perhaps he was too hasty in judging her compassion for others.

A sharp intake of breath pulled Ornstein from his thoughts. Rowena attached her lantern to a tiny belt, placed her shield in her left hand, and drew her scimitar. A thought occurred to him as she did so.

“...Were you attacking those skeletons with your shield?”

She turned her head and glanced at him. “...No.”

He bit back the disbelieving laugh that wanted to burst forth. “You had no other weapon in hand when I found you.”

She sighed. “Well, you told me to make profound use of my shield. I was simply following your instructions.”

Ornstein blinked, stunned into brief silence.

“...Fair enough.”

Rowena nodded slightly, then looked ahead and started walking once more. It wasn’t long before the distant glint of armor almost sparkled in the light of the lantern. Her breaths grew louder, shakier. The first Hollow, donned in heavy Cleric armor, turned his empty gaze towards them. He raised his bloodied axe and charged forth, heading straight towards Rowena. 

Before Ornstein could react, Rowena dove beneath the cleric’s swing and entered combat with a second, mace-wielding cleric. A twirl saved her from a sharp bludgeon to the ribs. Ornstein blocked the axe and shoved the cleric. He stumbled, leaving himself open. With a swift jab of the spear, part of the cleric’s armor clattered to the ground. A swipe cut into the thin layers underneath. Chainmail clattered against stone. Ornstein sidestepped another attack from the axe. He reared his weapon for a quick stab to the cleric’s chest. A shrill cry broke his focus.

His gaze briefly flitted away from his opponent. Rowena knelt on the ground, her right hand covering a red stain blossoming on her lower  back. She hissed, stumbled to her feet, and beat back the incoming mace with a force that tested her shield’s integrity. A similar sound rang in his ears again, albeit closer this time. Ornstein looked away from Rowena and stared at his right arm, which had reflexively blocked the next chop with spear in hand. Another shove gave him enough distance. He placed the spear in both hands and lunged forward. The cleric was securely impaled. Ornstein lifted his weapon and flung the Hollow over the ledge, the sound of armor the only thing indicating there was a fall at all. He took a breath, whipped around, and made his way back towards Rowena. Before he could reach her, she bashed the cleric’s shield back once again and stabbed him swiftly in the chest. She allowed the mace-wielding Hollow to fall to his knees before placing her foot upon him and yanking her scimitar out. The body fell with an almost sickening crunch. 

Rowena stared at the deceased cleric and caught her breath. She winced again and withdrew her hand from her back, cursing at the sight of blood. 

“A brutal tactic for you,” Ornstein commented as she took a drink from her Estus Flask. “As far as I have seen, you typically avoid such force.”

She set her flask back in place on her belt. “You...you’re right. Normally, I would never do that. I...I don’t know what came over me.” Her eyes fell upon the body at her feet. “But they can rest now. It...it is more than I can say for some.”

Rowena set her gaze forward and brushed past him, hardly looking at him. Ornstein stared after her for a moment, then followed her back to where Rhea sat. Rowena was oddly silent, but this was hardly the time to press. She knelt down in front Rhea, just as before. 

“It’s done,” she said.

“You...you banished those two Hollows, did you?” Rhea breathed a small sigh. “It pains me to think of the troubles my failings have caused.”

“Failings?” Rowena tilted her head. “Rhea, what are you talking about?”

Rhea glanced towards the ground. “Vince and Nico were fooled by a lout named Patches and turned into Hollows. My prayers did them no good. It is my ignorance, my frailty that has sealed their fates. Perhaps Petrus realized my weakness all along, and thus made the decision to abandon me.” Her head bowed slightly. “I can hardly blame him now…”

Rowena tensed immediately. The fingers that rested upon the rock beneath her pressed hard into the cool stone. She took a sharp inhale through her nose. 

“Whatever happened was  _ not _ your fault, Rhea,” Rowena began. “It was the motivations of others that led your escorts to their fates, not whatever failings you blame yourself with. Please, do not shoulder a burden that is not yours to bear.”

Rhea slowly lifted her head. In the dim light, her cheeks glistened. 

“Thank you,” she muttered. Rhea procured a small scroll. “Here, this belonged to them. The Replenishment Miracle. You deserve it more than I.”

Rowena took the scroll with all of the care of a wary child holding a small animal. “Rhea, I...thank you.” That genuine smile graced her features once more, though it threatened to falter. “Will you be alright?”

Rhea nodded. “I believe I can find my way out. Please, carry on with your mission.”

“Of course. Tread carefully.”

Rowena stood up and walked towards where Rhea’s escorts stood. Ornstein quietly followed, only stopping when she paused in front of a ladder made of bones. She placed her face in her hands.

“She’s too young,” she mumbled. “Far too young to be taking on a task like this.”

“You are hardly older than she,” Ornstein replied.

Rowena lifted her head and stared at him. It wasn’t anger that flowed from her stoic expression.

“Age may not be as applicable to your sort,” she began, “but humans only live a handful of years, in comparison. Forgive me for seeing her as a child plagued by an unforgiving curse.” 

Her words locked him into silence. Rowena shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead. It was strange, witnessing her in this distressed state. Of course, he was used to her causing her own distress through her own ineptitude, but this was entirely brought about by the actions of others. Still, they would not come close to reaching Gravelord Nito if she remained this way. 

“Is there someone you wanted to visit?” Ornstein supplied after allowing her a few minutes of quiet.

Rowena looked up again. “Why would I-” She paused. Her eyes narrowed. “Ah. Yes. Must you be right about these things?”

“If I wish to continue my streak? Yes.” 

She rolled her eyes. “If you say so. Regardless, I have a particular lout to visit and no patience to find my way back naturally.” Rowena pulled a small bone from one of her pouches and clutched it tight. Ornstein blinked, and the two of them were seated before the bonfire from earlier. She immediately got to her feet and stalked towards the ladder.

“Do pay attention to your weapons,” he supplied as he stood up.

“Oh,” she said, staring up at the ladder, “I won’t be needing my weapons for this.”

Ornstein raised an eyebrow, but decided not to ask. Instead, he followed her up the ladder. By the time he reached the top, Rowena was rolling up her long sleeves and heading straight for Patches, who, for some odd reason, was still standing near the ledge.

“ _ Oie!” _ Rowena shouted.

Patches jumped at her voice. “Oh, you, I…” He fumbled with his weapons, setting them down on the ground and putting his hands up. “Well, let’s just calm down. Talk about things-”

“ _ You _ were the one that tricked that poor girl and her escorts into the pit! Not only that, you tried to  _ kill me _ , and you expect me to have a  _ chat?! _ ”

The terror on Patches’ face was just shy of amusing. 

“I did you wrong,” he insisted. “But I didn’t mean it. These...temptations, they can, well, overcome me...You know what I mean? Don’t you?”

Ornstein coughed. Rowena stepped closer. 

“You know, I think your friend there gave you the wrong impression-”

“ _ First of all _ ,” she growled, “my companion is the Dragon Slayer of Anor Londo, and you will address him as such, lest you lose your head.” 

A surprising amount of respect, considering.

“And while he has done  _ many things _ to earn my ire, I do not need  _ him _ to form my opinion of  _ you _ .”

Ahh, that was more usual.

“ _ Second _ ,” she continued, “enlighten me on these  _ temptations _ of yours. Is it really for treasure, or do you find a certain  _ pleasure _ in the misfortune of others?”

“Hear me out,” Patches pleaded, not daring to move away from her. “I...I’m not used to sharing treasure with other people. Old habits, y’know?”

Rowena shook her head. “You would have been better off letting them die in the pit from whence they came. Or is that too difficult for a sniveling, thieving  _ coward? _ ”

“Please, forgive me. Just...just think about it for one second. You and me, we’re jolly Undead outcasts, aren’t we?”

She let out a loud, mocking laugh. “Stop speaking. You’re making me ill.”

Patches rolled his eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, let’s not mope about, eh?” Rowena’s right hand twitched. “You’re still alive! I’ve said I’m sorry!”

“I’m not certain demanding her to forget about these transgressions qualifies as an apology,” Ornstein commented.

“Unless you can  _ truly _ make it worth my while, I will forget  _ nothing, _ ” Rowena snarled.

“Wait, I know!” Patches exclaimed. He slowly lowered his hands, reached into one of his pouches, and pulled out a couplet of dark sprites. “Here, take this. It proves something, doesn’t it?”

Rowena stared at the sprites in Patches’ hand. If Ornstein remembered correctly, these small things were called Humanity. They were what allowed the Undead, and hence Rowena, to retain their human appearance, provided said Undead did not die. He did not know all of Humanity’s functions, but allowing the Undead to feel partially normal made it a priceless commodity, indeed. 

“Hmm…” Rowena took the sprites, becoming strangely calm. “I haven’t seen Humanity like this in...oh, who knows?” She placed them in a pouch. “In truth, that was awfully kind of you. I should find a way to thank you for this.”

“See?” Patches shrugged. “No harm done. Now we can get back to-”

Rowena punched Patches directly in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. 

“That is a  _ wonderful start _ ,” she hissed.

Before Patches could begin to recover, Rowena pinned him to the ground with his spear, pressing the handle of it into his neck with one hand. She proceeded to continue hitting him with the other, leaving no room for Patches to speak.

“ _ This is for Rhea! _ ” Her fist collided with Patches’ left cheek.

“ _ This is for betraying me! _ ” Another hit landed on his ear. 

“ _ Why are you cruel?!”  _ Rowena yelled as she attempted to crush his nose. Ornstein swore he heard a crack upon impact. Blood started to ooze from Patches’ face as she continued.

“ _ You had my trust! _ ” Her hits became harder, more violent. Another crack rung out.

“Rowena.” Ornstein started walking over towards them. Patches’ neck was turning a sickly shade of purple. Rowena raised her fist again, aiming it at the center of the infant bruise.

“ _ YOU RUINED IT! _ ”

Ornstein grabbed her wrist as she was carrying out her next move. A small gasp left her throat. Her arm trembled.

“That is enough,” he ordered. “You have doled out his punishment.”

Rowena twitched, but otherwise made not move to break free from his grasp. Her eyes watered. She blinked a few times.

“...Yes. I have.” 

Her hand relaxed. Ornstein gently released her wrist and stepped back, allowing her room to stand. She rose and dabbed her eyes with one of her sleeves. 

“Are you certain you were never an executioner in a former life?” he asked.

She fiddled with her sleeves. “Yes. I...I know it’s strange. I never think I can do these things, and then I’m no different than-” She stopped herself. “...Nevermind. To answer your question: no. I was never an executioner.”

“If I had only just met you, I would argue otherwise, or at least for a similar position.”

“Why, would I have garnered Anor Londo’s attention on the matter?”

There was a mocking undertone to her question, but he ignored it. “You might have raised a few eyebrows, yes. Perhaps even caught Smough’s attention. He had a violent way about his methods.” He sighed. “Alas, I cannot speak for the dead. Let us move forward before the dead begin to speak for us.”

Rowena nodded, leading the way with her lantern.

They continued on through the Tomb, the dark and winding pathways all beginning to look similar. Although these skeletons were at least twice her size, if not more, Rowena did not seem quite as phased by them as she was before. It was likely due to her previous altercation, but it did not make her much more proficient in the ways of combat. Instead, it simply made her calmer. All the same, it crafted a slightly less agonizing journey to the Gravelord.

As they passed onto a more well-lit path, Rowena stopped and stared out over the ledge. Ornstein stopped and looked in turn. Large trees rose up from blue depths, giving their surroundings a greenish, clouded hue. 

“I thought the Tomb was the end,” Rowena breathed. “Do you know what lies below?”

“No,” Ornstein replied. “It is reminiscent of a place of legend, but I have never encountered it before now.”

She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. “It’s beautiful.”

Indeed, it was. The scenery provided a certain stillness to the air that wasn’t present before. The more he stared, the more uneasiness settled into his mind. It was as if their gazes were forbidden. 

Much to his relief, Rowena pried herself from the sight and continued onward. As they traveled, the texture and color of the surrounding stone began to change, becoming bright and glossy with hanging stone spikes dotting the ceiling. 

“How violent  _ were _ the executions in Anor Londo?”

It took a moment for Ornstein to speak. 

“Your question comes as a surprise,” he said. “Why the sudden interest in the city of the gods?”

She shrugged. “If I was truly that violent just a little bit ago, I would like to know how it compares.”

He took some time to think it over. Some memories were faint, but it was enough for a basic answer.

“It depended upon the crime,” he began. “As I recall, no one was outright executed for theft, although repeated infractions  _ did _ raise questions against the committer.”

“So your lord wasn’t inordinately cruel.”

A part of him took offense to that word being used against Lord Gwyn.

“No,” he replied, keeping his tone even. “Most regarded him as merciful. The Executioner, on the other hand...there is a reason he was not granted the title of a kni-”

A loud crunch echoed around them. Ornstein looked down. Under his armored foot was a brittle skeleton, or at least part of one. Lined up in front of them was an entire group of skeletons, all posed in deep gestures of respect. 

“They’re...bowing,” Rowena mumbled.

“We must be close. Stay al-”

A magic blast hit Rowena and sent her flying off of the ledge. 

“...Nevermind,” Ornstein sighed.

As he jumped down to meet her, Rowena scrambled to her feet and dashed ahead. She was rather fickle when it came to fighting or fleeing, and guessing which she was about to do was becoming quite the irritating game. Nevertheless, he followed, running and weaving around various attacks while crushing tiny skeletons underfoot. They eventually came upon an entrance guarded by fragile wood and fog, a makeshift gateway of some sort. Rowena paused to stare at the unlit torches and additional bowing skeletons before breaking the wood and entering the fog. 

“Why is it always pits?” she groaned as Ornstein entered. He peered down the hole in question. 

“You have fallen from worse heights. Need I remind you of Blighttown?”

“That was impulsive and we will never speak of it again.”

“Not if you wish to learn from it.”

She growled under her breath. “I suppose we have no other choice, then.”

Rowena inhaled sharply and leapt down the hole, landing firmly on the ground below. She was already stepping forward by the time Ornstein joined her. 

“There doesn’t seem to be much here,” she said. “More skeletons, but that’s hardly a surprise.”

He took a quick inventory of their surroundings. As Rowena mentioned, there were many bones scattered about from numerous corpses. Stone similar to that above comprised their surroundings. In the distance, he thought he caught the glint of a giant coffin.

“There are no other ways to travel,” he said.

“So...where is this Gravelord?” she asked, extending her arms out to her sides. 

“Do you really think it wise to mock the dead?”

“How is that mocking?”

“Your tone. You sound as if you are seeking a challenge.”

“Hardly. Traveling with  _ you _ is challenge enough.”

“I could say the same for-”

A loud cracking sound echoed around them. Ornstein stopped and held out a hand, listening. One crack became a chorus of cracks, prying themselves from a place long dead. He shifted his grip on his spear, eyes focused on the void ahead. 

Rowena pointed towards the darkness. “What...is  _ that? _ ”

A mass of skeletons lumbered from the small abyss, rotted bone catching the light of her lantern, a black cloak swirling around the backside, the grand sword of death that rained pestilence upon the dragons of old glimmering with malintent. 

“We have woken the Gravelord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone ready for some Nito shenanigans? He's gonna have a real bone to pick with them...yeah, okay, I'll see myself out. Until next chapter!


	7. Lord of the Dead

Rowena stared at the horrifying mass of bones shuffling towards them. There was still time to move, to scramble and find a way out of this forsaken pit. She scanned their surroundings. The wall behind them might suffice as an escape route. Of course, the worse that could happen was the constant cycle of death and resurrection, but she didn’t fancy dying to a sentient mass of skeletons with a giant sword for an arm. 

She whipped around and started scurrying up said wall, finding tiny crevices along the way that served as hand and foot holds. After a bit, she grinned. Her chances of climbing out alive were increasing with each miraculously placed dent. However, less than a quarter of the way up, the crevices disappeared. Her smile fell. She desperately scraped her fingers against the wall in hopes of finding a smaller hold that she just happened to miss. Nothing caught her fingertips. She rested her head against the wall in dismay.

“What are you  _ doing?! _ ”

Rowena jumped at Ornstein’s voice and screeched as she slid down the wall and landed bottom-first. She scrambled to her feet.

“Escaping!” she yelled.

“ _ What?! _ ”

“I’ve been stabbed by enough skeletons today, thank you very much! Lord Soul or no, this one can rest in peace!” 

An ear-splitting scream that was not her own pierced the stagnant air. Just as she went to cover her ears, a glowing blade shot out of the ground beneath her and sent her flying. She landed with a painful and resounding thud. Nausea bubbled up in her throat. She pointed towards Nito’s limping form.

“Blade...toxic…” Rowena panted. She coughed a few times, then stood up. “ _ Fine _ . If you’re going to do  _ that _ , consider yourself heading for a second death!”

Ornstein twirled his spear once, readying for attack. “What a startling turnaround.”

She growled, but drew her scimitar and shield. She took a moment to squint. In front of Nito was a small army of skeletons rushing towards their location. She gritted her teeth, hoping they wouldn’t come back once she struck them down. A swift swipe to the first one that accosted her and a brief pause answered her question. As she cut another one down, the first reassembled and rose, prepared to fight again. She groaned.

“Of course!” she shouted. “Of course it can’t be that simple!” Rowena slashed the skeleton again and turned towards Nito, who was still a fair distance away. She bit back a shudder, but maintained her scowl. Another scream echoed around them. The blade targeted Ornstein that time, although he was swift enough to avoid it. Rowena started her walk towards Nito, just meeting the Gravelord’s pace and chopping skeletons along the way.

The closer she was, the more she realized that the mass of skeletons wasn’t entirely human. She thought she spotted several limbs that previously belonged to dogs or other animals. There was also a sort of black cloak surrounding Nito, although she wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be made of. It seemed too fragile to be made of ordinary cloth, more of a cloud than a tangible cloak. She gripped her sword tighter, steeling herself. 

“Lord of the Dead, eh?” Rowena snarled. “Funny how a curse can override your power!”

Nito swiped his sword horizontally, catching the end of her outfit and tearing off a tiny piece as she rolled out of the way. Rowena glanced at it and frowned, but shuffled back to her feet. A bolt of lightning flew past her head and struck Nito in what she could only assume was his chest. The heat of the attack still twinged on her ear. She whipped around.

“Honestly, did you forget how to  _ aim?! _ ”

Ornstein whacked a skeleton into a wall. “It is no fault of  _ mine _ if you choose to stand in my way!”

“I’ll be  _ damned _ if I die because of your-”

A large skeletal hand scooped Rowena off of the ground and into the air. She yelped, shrinking as she gazed into Nito’s empty eye sockets. She wiggled to escape, but his grip was as strong as any other creature’s. There was a strange glow coming from his hand, orange and bright like fire. Her insides twisted and churned. Thousands of invisible knives carved into her skin. Her chest burned, as if the fire she so often sat by manifested and raged in her heart. She screamed, but every cry of pain was unheard, unheeded by the Lord of Death. Part of her begged for death to come, even if it meant reviving as a grotesque husk. She shut her eyes, attempting to close the agony out of her mind. 

She was unceremoniously thrown to the ground seconds after. Rowena remained motionless, save for lifting her head to observe the scene. Ornstein was faring far better than she could ever hope to against a Lord. Of course. As he expertly dodged Nito’s attacks and weaved around skeletons as if he were made of air instead of flesh, she wondered what she had been expecting when they set out from Anor Londo. There was a reason she needed help, a reason she so desperately tried to ignore. It was something that had crossed her mind hundreds, no, thousands of times, but pride and anger almost always shut those thoughts away. It was a wonder that she, a frustrated Undead with half of a memory, had managed so far on her own. For a moment, she loathed her stubbornness, how it stood as a massive wall against her progress, how it inhibited nearly everything she tried to do, how it drove the fear of the gods into her at the sight of something she couldn’t comprehend in her own imagination. 

Then again, that wall of stubbornness had a way of yielding through the tiny cracks, showing a small path yet to be carved with the crumbling stonework.

Rowena’s nails scraped the ground as she rose, stumbling to her feet as the echoes of battle rung in her ears. She sheathed her scimitar and shut her eyes. After a moment, her hand glowed with a familiar, welcoming flame. She smiled, then set her eyes on the battle before her. 

“If I recall correctly,” she muttered, “the dead burn quite nicely.” Rowena took aim and threw a raging fireball at Nito. Much to her dismay, the trajectory was a touch too high, and the fireball bounced off of his strange cloak and wreaked havoc upon his skeletal minions. She cursed and took a few steps forward. 

The screams from earlier returned. Rowena rolled out of the way of the blade, then tossed another fireball. She swore some of the remnants fell onto Ornstein, but if they did, he paid them no mind. The sounds of crunching grew louder, more sickening. She stepped closer, rolled out of the way of a swipe, and squinted. Nito’s skeletal mass was beginning to develop visible fractures, though it would take more than a few fireballs to do the trick. She readied another one, although not without unease. Nito was beginning to do something different.

He hunched over, more so than he was before, as if in preparation for something. There was a slight quiver to his form, enough to rattle the hanging skeletons attached to him. Rowena backed away a few steps. She glanced over at Ornstein. He was preoccupied with a larger skeleton that had meandered its way over to the battle. Before she could point out the changing situation, Nito unleashed a powerful stream of darkness in all directions. Rowena put her shield up to block the majority of the impact, but the sickening feeling from earlier built up in her throat again. She took a moment to breathe before peeking over her shield. 

A short gasp left her mouth at the sight of Ornstein. From the looks of his kneeling form, he had suffered a majority of the blast. She ignored Nito’s lumbering footsteps and tuned in to Ornstein’s breathing. It was strained, and not from the general hardships of battle. A strange and sudden twinge of panic tugged at her mind. She raced through solutions, tossing aside one after another until-

“The moss,” she whispered. Rowena shook her head and looked directly at Ornstein. “The moss!” she yelled, procuring another fireball. “Find the kind with white blooms! Eat it, quick!”

She turned away before Ornstein could respond and ran towards Nito. After diving under another swipe, she tossed fireballs at his left side. Small chunks of bone flew in all directions with each hit. Nito slowly turned around. His left hand glowed that telltale orange once more. Rowena hopped out of arm’s reach, watching Nito’s bony fingers curl and uncurl, as if beckoning the observer to their demise. Some might look upon the gesture as a kindness, perhaps a signal that death had been waiting on the sidelines with open arms. Rowena, however, felt nothing but a shiver of terror course through her body. The flame in her hand threatened to die out. She let it fizzle, unsheathed her scimitar, then focused on the Gravelord. 

The cracks from earlier were beginning to widen. A small smile crossed her face. A quick roll brought her to his right side. She hacked at him a few times before a skeleton decided she was a prime target. Rowena stumbled back and took a swig of Estus. She growled, then cut down the offending skeleton. After it crumbled, she stepped on one of its loose arms for good measure. She rolled her way over to Nito and swiped at his left leg along the way. A sickening crack followed her attack. Her foot met a particularly brave skeleton’s rib cage, which sent them into the nearby wall. A few more hacks at Nito’s left side split open one of the many skeletons. Half of a skull was missing, and one arm was now lost to the void of the Tomb. 

Nito seemed to be turning faster now, his uneven legs hardly hindering the anger that radiated from his hulking form. Rowena never thought someone long dead could emanate such fury, but the way he sliced at her with his sword proved otherwise. In a way, his slowly cracking form was more terrifying than when he first made his presence known. She dove under two consecutive swipes, then tumbled away from him. Rowena took a quick observation of her surroundings. Nito in front of her, two skeletons on her right, a wall behind her that was quickly approaching, and no Dragon Slayer in sight. Her eyebrows knitted together. How far had she wandered? Unless she underestimated the size of the Gravelord’s resting place, it couldn’t have been far. She shook her head and kicked another skeleton aside. At the sight of Nito’s lumbering pace, panic ushered her to a corner that logic screamed at her to avoid. 

She squeezed herself into the corner, then put her scimitar away, produced another fireball and tossed it at Nito. Piercing screams preceded Nito’s sword shooting out of the ground right in front of her. Rowena swallowed hard, then tossed another fireball. She thanked the gods she had had the foresight to increase the strength of her flame before coming here, but this brilliant pyromancy wouldn’t last forever. She’d lost track of how many fireballs she’d lobbed. Nito shambled closer, fragments of skeletons hanging by unseen threads. Rowena bit her lip. No doubt he could reach her. His fingers were slender enough to slip past the sturdy walls and pluck a trembling Undead from their hiding place. She glanced down, gulping down a yelp at the sight of a human arm underfoot. It shouldn’t have phased her, but the mere sight of it sent her into a panicking spiral, dwelling on how many others had tried and failed before her. 

Rowena mustered up the courage to throw another fireball. That one made Nito pause for a moment, but he was soon stalking towards her again. Her pyromancy flame disappeared from her hand. She cursed and bit her lip. That horrific glow flowed from his left hand. Rowena shut her eyes and screamed, bracing herself for the Gravelord’s personal brand of agony. 

A loud crack met her ears. Rowena slowly opened her eyes, then covered her mouth. Nito’s skull was split completely down the middle, thanks to the spear that pierced through his forehead. It was violently removed, the Gravelord’s skull shattering at the force. Nito stumbled backwards, then stood still. After a harrowing moment, he crumbled into a pile of fragmented bones, his strange cloak floating off into the darkness. 

Despite her panic, a surge of energy flowed through Rowena. She wasn’t sure if it was the souls or relief, but she was glad to feel that instead of whatever Nito had in store as punishment. She took a deep breath, cherishing the air in spite of its scent.

“You were right about the moss,” Ornstein began, making her jump. He offered her a hand. “But perhaps you should stop your talk of poisoning me. It strikes me as a bad omen.”

Rowena hesitated, but eventually took his hand. He pulled her out of the corner, only letting her stumble slightly before releasing her hand. She still trembled, although less now that she had a corpse, or a pile of corpses, to gaze upon. 

“He’s...dead,” she mumbled.

“As we intended,” Ornstein replied. His tone was odd, but she brushed it aside for the time being. A small glow pulsed from the remains of Nito’s skull. She shuffled her way over to it, splashing tiny drops of water with her boots, and stooped down to inspect the skull. The light was almost alluring. She scooped up the light with both hands. It was a soul, unlike any soul she had previously laid eyes open. The color was almost like fire in her hands, beautifully illuminating their surroundings.

“A Lord Soul,” she mumbled. Rowena carefully tucked it into one of her pouches, then gasped. “Wait. A Lord Soul. A  _ Lord Soul _ .” A small giggle left her mouth. “I have a  _ Lord Soul! _ ”

She ran past Nito’s corpse and cheered, her voice echoing all around the Tomb. Rowena spun in place a few times with her arms out, laughing all the while. “I thought I’d  _ never _ get one! What would I tell Frampt  _ then? _ ”

“That his breath would suffice in gathering them in your place?” Ornstein suggested.

Rowena snorted. “I believe that’s the funniest thing you’ve said since we’ve met. Not hard to do, though.”

“Likewise. You make a fool of yourself without words.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, then wandered further into the Tomb. “Gods, is there a bonfire I can light in here? I could use a place to-” She gasped. “Found one!” Rowena skipped towards the bonfire and promptly lit it, practically collapsing once it was done. She stuck her hand out towards the comforting flames, soft and soothing in this vast blanket of darkness. 

“One soul gathered,” Ornstein said as he sat down, “three more to acquire.”

“And somehow, I feel...stronger,” Rowena replied.

“That goes without saying. You  _ did _ just acquire the Gravelord’s soul.”

“I feel physically stronger. Perhaps a bit of that energy went into my strength, after all.” Rowena sat up after a moment of silence. “But it wasn’t just me. I wasn’t the one who landed the final blow. I owe you  _ some _ credit for your efforts.” She folded her hands in her lap. “So...I suppose I’m thanking you.”

“Rather reluctantly,” he commented. She rolled her eyes. “However, the thanks is not solely yours to give. I’ve suffered worse, but without the moss, it would have been a drawn-out and painful fight. You spared me that agony.”

Rowena smiled a bit. “Not even irritating Dragon Slayers deserve that sort of pain.”

He nodded. “I could say the same for incompetent Undead.”

It was a guess, but she thought she heard hints of a smile in Ornstein’s voice. Her own smile widened slightly. She brushed dirt off of her lap, then folded her hands again. 

“I think we should regroup in Firelink,” she said. “The constant sight of skeletons is almost worse than the Hollows wandering around. Besides, I have someone to talk to before we move on.”

“Ah,” Ornstein said. “The cleric?”

“Unfortunately.” Rowena sighed. “I know how fear changes a person, but I can only hope his true intentions were pure. Still, I won’t find out sitting in this tomb.”

She took a breath and held her hands out to the bonfire. Before long, the fresh air flowing through Firelink Shrine filled her lungs. Rowena smiled and reclined upon the soft dirt, tuning in to the gentle crackles of the fire. After the Tomb, the wind of the outdoors was a welcome noise, the bright blues peeking between the clouds lulling her to sleep. Perhaps a nap was well-deserved.

Perhaps. 


	8. A Kindness Repaid

It was the twinging pain in her neck and the soft crackles of the bonfire that awoke Rowena from her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open. A small amount of joy rushed through her mind at the sight of the glowing flames. It was the reminder of a task completed, of another victory without a scrap of death on her part. She breathed in the scent of smoke and grass. After spending all of that time underground, it was wonderful to rest in an area that didn’t constantly remind her of death. 

She sat up and yawned loudly, bones cracking in protest as she stretched. There was a brief shift in her right shoulder that didn’t feel particularly good, but it quickly faded. She frowned, then shrugged. As miraculous as these bonfires could be, she didn’t expect them to heal everything. 

“Are all Undead masters of feigning death while they sleep?”

Rowena blinked. She’d almost forgotten that Ornstein was sitting right across from her. She tilted her head in response. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You hardly breathed,” he replied. “Perhaps it was simply a part of your nature from birth, but I have known trained assassins that slept louder than you.”

“Oh.” Rowena glanced up at the sky. “I vaguely remember someone telling me I was quiet when I slept.”

“Did they remind you it was the  _ only _ time?”

She picked up a small pebble and tossed it at him. It bounced off of one of his gauntlets. “Regardless, it hardly feels like I rested. Do you know how long I was asleep?”

“Considering the passage of time is hardly regular, I can only hazard a guess. However, based on my short travels, you were asleep for about two days.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Her eyes widened, then narrowed into a glare. “And dare I ask  _ why _ you never bothered to wake me?”

Ornstein folded his arms. “That would have incurred a different sort of wrath that I was unwilling to deal with.”

Rowena stared at him blankly. “I...suppose that’s a fair point.” She let out a brief sigh. “It hardly matters now, though. I still have a cleric to speak to, and I can only hope he’s heard the news of Rhea’s safe return. He seemed awfully worried, last I checked.”

“Not enough to forego abandoning his charge.”

She glanced at the dirt. “I won’t deny the strangeness of his actions. However, I would like to hear his reasoning for myself before I make a decision, in spite of how worrying his past choices may be.” After a pause, Rowena stood up. “Unless something goes awry, I will return shortly.” 

She turned and started her walk towards where she last saw Petrus. Nervousness settled into her mind. Surely, there was nothing to be worried about. If anything, he would be relieved to know that Rhea was safe. His cowardice was most likely an instinctual survival tactic. Lords know she’d done that more than she cared to admit. She broke into a run to stave off further doubts, excitement bubbling in her throat as she called out to Petrus from afar.

“I’ve found her!” Rowena exclaimed. Petrus turned his head as she slowed to a jovial stroll. “I’ve found Rhea!”

Petrus quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve rescued M’Lady?”

Rowena nodded. “Yes! She was all alone in the Tomb, the poor thing. I don’t blame you for running, it’s a terrifying place, but-”

He held up a hand. Rowena fell silent. “A pity that is, for it will amount to nothing.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? She’s safe. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Petrus let out a short laugh. “For such a bold Undead, you really are  _ quite  _ slow in these matters.”

“Then enlighten me,” she replied, placing a hand on her hip. “Why is her rescue so worthless in your eyes?”

“You see, M’Lady slipped off the giant’s coffin and into a hole. She wept in solitude while her companions turned into Hollows. Not even her precious prayers could save them. The little madam is not worth her salt without her family name. She never has been. Protecting her was an agonizing ordeal.” He laughed again. “‘Tis a pity you went and rescued her when you could have done as you pleased with her. A special kind of deprivation for your traveling companion, if I do say so myself.”

Every muscle in Rowena’s face strained to keep a neutral expression. Heat rose in her cheeks. She could only hope it was not coloring her too harshly while she restrained herself from boring bloody holes into the palms of her hands. Her right hand crept for her scimitar, then stopped. That would be too kind. She needed something better. 

“Oh,” she finally said. “I see.” She let her arms fall to her sides. “I should find some way to repay you for this information. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Rowena turned and calmly walked back towards the bonfire, only starting to stalk once she knew she was out of Petrus’ sight. Her mouth curled into a snarl. By the time she reached the bonfire, she could hardly contain the tremors that made her fingers twitch. Instead of sitting down like usual, she stopped and stood next to Ornstein, who was still quietly seated. He met her gaze upon approach and stared at her for a moment while she seethed. 

“I need your spear,” she finally said, barely withholding the fury in her voice.

A gentle breeze passed between them. 

“...I beg your pardon?”

“Did I stutter?” she growled.  “Your spear.  _ Now _ .”

“Even if I  _ did _ agree to this,” Ornstein started, “you cannot possibly lift my weapon. Your arms would give out. Shouldn’t your scimitar suffice?”

“Under ordinary circumstances? Yes. Now? It is not cruel enough.”

He sighed, but didn’t question why she needed it, surprisingly enough. “Regardless, you will have to look elsewhere if you wish to carry out your desired attack.”

Rowena rolled her eyes. “Just when I thought you were beginning to be useful.”

“I would apologize for the disappointment, but I would be doing you a disservice, otherwise.”

She paused. Did he just admit he was saving her pain? No, there had to be a hint of malice in there somewhere. Rowena waved her hand and walked towards where Frampt was resting, pondering her situation. Ornstein’s spear would have been useful for the lightning capabilities. Although, if she recalled correctly, she still had some Gold Pine Resin stored in one of her pouches. She almost never removed the resins, lest she needed them. All the same, she still believed a scimitar just wasn’t going to do against this foul cleric. A spear was still dynamic enough for her tastes and brutal enough for the end goal, yet none of the ones she had found were strong enough for such a thing. Perhaps it was time to go through her storage box and-

“Rowena!”

Laurentius’ voice startled her out of her thoughts. She looked up only to see him waving her over urgently. She straightened up and dashed over, nearly skidding in the grass as she sat down next to him.

“Thank goodness you’re safe,” he began, eyebrows furrowing. “I was told all about your toils in the Catacombs.”

Rowena tilted her head. “Who in the world told you about that?”

“A new Undead wandered into the shrine. He’s resting just to the left of that strange serpent. When he came here, he looked to be in none too keen of shape. Said an Undead lady of your description nearly beat him to death, but wouldn’t say why.”

She glanced down at the ground, her eyes wide. It had to be a kind of miracle that allowed Patches to survive that thrashing without getting stabbed by skeletons on the way out. That outcome didn’t please her, but…

“Hmm.” Rowena look up and watched a group of clouds pass overhead. “I might have been a bit heavy-handed with his punishment...but only just.” She shook her head. “Still, the least I can do is welcome him to the shrine...assuming he doesn’t run away from me.”

“Did he deserve the beating he got?” asked Laurentius.

She smiled and got to her feet. “Most definitely.”

Rowena crept up the stairs and slipped past Frampt, who was fast asleep once more. At the closest crumbling doorway, she poked her head around and frowned. Just as Laurentius said. From that angle, the bruises on Patches’ face were beginning to heal, but still looked a nasty shade of purple and black. The mark on his neck did not fair much better. She stepped through the doorway and tucked her hands behind her back.

“What a surprise,” she started, nearly making Patches jump off of the ledge he was perched in front of. “Trusty Patches, looking to make a fine profit off of the misfortunes of fellow Undead. I must say, you have quite the courage to come here for such business.”

“You…” Patches shook his head, pasting a grin on his face. “Ah, I’m done with the looting. I tell you, I’m a humble merchant now! And wondrous treasure have I!”

She quirked an eyebrow. “That you picked from graves, no doubt.”

He scoffed, although his expression threatened to falter. “Relax. No more funny business out of me, my friend! I’ve even got special prices for you. Think of it as an apology. A real one.”

Rowena smiled briefly. “A kind gesture, but I have something else in mind. A favor, if you will.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I...hope this doesn’t involve another beating.”

“Not against you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Patches breathed a sigh of relief. “I need a spear for maximum effect, but I have none that would be strong enough. If you allow me to use yours for a time, I promise to bring back with it a splendid legacy."

“Really?” He folded his arms. “What kind of ‘legacy’ are you thinking of? Because I can only think of a few worth lending my spear to the lady that nearly sent me to my maker.”

Rowena leaned against the wall and put on her best smirk. 

“What if I told you it was for cleric killing?”

Patches brightened up immediately. “Well, why didn’t you say so earlier?” He reached behind him and grabbed the spear that was resting against the wall, handing it to her gently. “There you are, love.”

She twitched at the pet name, but let it be for now. “How does it handle pine resins?”

“Ah, splendidly. It’ll take anything you apply to it. Works wonders, I tell you!”

Rowena placed the spear on her back and dipped her head slightly. “I’ll return it to you in short order, blood included as proof. As you know, I’m a lady of my word.”

She flashed Patches a malicious grin before slipping past Frampt again and heading towards Petrus. Her stride took on more purpose, a steady walk in place of a furious stomp. As she passed the bonfire, she exchanged a brief glance with Ornstein. Or, at least it seemed like it. She could never truly tell what was occurring underneath that helmet, and it was infuriating. Still, he said nothing to her, and only gave a gentle nod to acknowledge her. 

He knew.

She gave him no details of the exchange. She never opened her mouth on who deserved the attack. She could be hunting for someone else entirely, an imaginary figure responsible for Rhea’s misfortune. And yet, Ornstein made no motion to stop her. He let her pass, possibly casting a silent wish for luck.

Perhaps he was not as cold as she initially believed.

Rowena nodded in turn and set her sights back on her destination. 

The grass crunching under her boots sounded louder than before, almost too loud for the ambience of the peaceful shrine. Tingles slithered down her spine. She almost wished she had died before this so her body would be number to such sensations. Such was the blessing and curse of Humanity. She took a few breaths and donned her gentlest smile just before Petrus came into view again. 

“Apologies for my sudden exit,” Rowena began. “I needed to retrieve a proper form of thanks.” She calmly drew the spear. “A weapon picked off of a cleric killer. Not that your own weapon won’t suffice, but if what you say is true, it will be the perfect way to finish off your charge once and for all.”

Petrus looked at the weapon curiously, then stared at Rowena. “Do you honestly take me for an idiot?”

Rowena stopped herself from answering that question honestly and raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You’ve practically thrown yourself to the whims of Lordran in order to find Lady Rhea,” he said. “I thought you had more morals than this. Lying to a cleric, of all people?”

Her puzzled expression dropped into a glare. “ _ You _ have no place to talk of morals. Because of you, not only did your compatriots turn Hollow, but Rhea was left to  _ die _ . I was forced to kill her  _ true  _ guards, and now I am left with  _ you _ .”

“The land is better for it,” Petrus commented. “I should commend you for your service.”

Rowena’s grip on the spear tightened, her voice lowering to a fury-laden growl. “Listen _closely_ , you horrid excuse of a man. I am granting you _one_ _last chance_ to leave this shrine before I offer you to your deities for judgment. Depart, or you will know _exactly_ where my kindness ends.”

Petrus smirked. “Of course. I have business to attend to with M’Lady, as it is.”

He took a step forward. Rowena moved the spear out in front of him. It collided with his armor, a loud clang echoing into the rest of Firelink.

“That was  _ not  _ part of my statement,” she snapped. 

“Perhaps you should be more specific,” he retorted.

“Then allow me to be  _ perfectly clear _ . You will leave Firelink. If you touch a single  _ hair _ on Rhea’s head, you will answer to my blade. Am I understood?”

“Indeed,” he replied. “There are others that could carry out the deed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you insist on bringing her harm, then you will pay with your life.”

“Then show me what you can do,” Petrus challenged. “What sort of wrath can this daft, hapless Undead incur upon me?”

Rowena grabbed the spear with both hands and pointed the bladed end towards his neck.

“Do you  _ truly _ wish to find out?”

Petrus stepped back and beat the spear away with his shield. Rowena stumbled, but raised her weapon up just in time to block his morning star. Her eyes drifted towards the head of his weapon for a moment. The spikes were already coated in blood. She shuddered to think how many others might have fallen to his tricks.

She shoved him backwards and twirled the spear in her hands. Petrus swung at her again, catching the bottom of her left leg as she rolled out of the way. Rowena winced and jabbed at him from the ground. The spear collided with his shield instead. She swore and scrambled to her feet, hissing at the pain pulsing in her leg. 

“A shame about your leg,” Petrus mocked. “If only the gods were kind enough to show you mercy!”

Rowena screeched and lunged at him. The tip of the spear made contact with flesh. Blood pooled from his right arm. 

“How  _ dare _ you speak to me about  _ mercy! _ ” she shouted. “You wouldn’t know the concept if it bludgeoned you in the  _ head! _ ”

She pulled back and lunged at him again. Her attack missed, and a swift whack from his morning star sent her tumbling to the ground. Rowena yelped and inhaled sharply. She cringed at the damp, stinging feeling pooling in the middle of her back. Another hit to the back of her left leg flattened her to the ground. She screamed, the impact of metal spikes tearing open her clothes and skin.  Before Petrus could hit her again, Rowena rolled on her back and blocked his weapon with the spear, ignoring the dirt rubbing into her wounds. She struggled to push him away. He leaned as close as he dared, a smug grin meeting her scowling stare. 

“Have you decided to surrender?” Petrus sneered.

Rowena bared her teeth as her arms trembled from the weight. Her eyes flicked away. She noted his uneven footing and the free leg that happened to be resting near his own. After a moment, she tilted her head and glared.

“ _ No. _ ”

She spit in his face, shoved him away and knocked him off of his feet with a swift kick to the legs. Petrus slammed into the ground, his shield skidding towards the stairs. Rowena sprinted towards it as fast as he wounds allowed. Her fingers skimmed the tips before she was blown backwards by an unseen force. She rolled into a group of pots, scattered shards cutting her face. 

“Damn miracles,” Rowena muttered. She started pushing herself out of the rubble when an armored hand pulled her out by the neck of her clothing and pinned her against one of the crumbling walls. An angered scream left her mouth. She flailed her legs in an attempt to throw off Petrus’ stance. He tightened his grip and shifted it towards her neck.

“Enough of your games,  _ Rowena _ ,” he sneered. “You have no hope of victory. What do you think of joining the Hollows in their infernal dance? What of your noble knight? How would he fancy his charge succumbing to the curse? Or perhaps he would fall first?”

“ _ No! _ ” she screeched, half-gasping at her own reaction. A surge of heat flowed into her face as she continued to struggle. 

“Hmm, a shame. Maybe he would like to rid of you, instead. Do you think I could never hear you bickering? Perhaps I’m doing him a favor in all of this!”

Rowena took as many breaths as Petrus’ grip would let her. Her right hand still held the spear. She shut her eyes briefly, thinking. The pine resin. It was on her left side. Her left hand crept towards the pouch in question. She breathed too much. Petrus’ grip tightened. He tossed her to the side, right back into the pile of pottery shards. She yelped, tucking her arms towards her torso as she rolled. Rowena coughed and caught her breath. Footsteps were approaching. She dug for the Gold Pine Resin and tugged it out, shards getting in the way as she quickly grabbed her spear. It was almost lost to Petrus’ swift kick, which landed in her ribs, instead. She coughed again and rolled out of the shard pile. 

“What do you think, hm?” he asked. “A useless Undead, hardly capable of fighting on her own. I think he wanted you gone long ago!”

Petrus’ laughter only fueled her rage. She rubbed the pine resin on the spear and stood up, straightening herself before rushing towards him. Rowena screeched and drove the lightning-coated spear directly into his chest. He let out a choked gasp, staring in horror first at the wound, then at Rowena’s malicious expression. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to the level of a whisper.

“Traitorous clerics,” she hissed, “should  _ never _ speak for a Knight of Gwyn.”

Rowena violently yanked the spear out of his chest. Petrus stood still for a moment, then collapsed to the ground. He twitched as blood began to pool underneath him. Quiet, gasping words of confusion left his mouth. She breathed deep, gasping at the pain that surged through her back. The bloody spot there had only grown since first impact. She turned to leave and yelped at the sudden presence standing in the archway.

It was Ornstein. 

She stood up straight and waved, although even that caused her body to ache. “If it is any comfort, this is not as dire as it seems.”

Ornstein gestured firmly in the direction he came from. “Bonfire. Now.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“As a small Undead once asked me: Did I stutter?”

Rowena rolled her eyes and leaned on the spear. “I have to return this first.”

“I never said my demand was  _ optional _ .”

“And you never said it  _ wasn’t _ , either.”

He sighed and placed a hand on his forehead. “ _ Must you? _ ”

She raised an eyebrow as she walked towards him. The limp was painfully obvious. “You’re frightening me, Dragon Slayer.”

“And why would  _ that _ be?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

Rowena smiled a bit. “It almost sounds like you care for my well-being.”

Ornstein scoffed. “Hardly. Allowing you to bleed out, however, goes against my duty.” He waved his hand, as if to dismiss her. “You may return the spear, but you  _ will _ come back to the bonfire the moment you are through.”

She rolled her eyes, but slipped past him all the same, as painfully slow as her stride was. The Shrine, now that she was injured, felt less like a small enclosure and more like a massive field that had no end. She ignored the horrified stare she knew she was getting from Laurentius. If he asked, she would explain later. By the time she reached the appropriate archway, she just managed to tap the stone with the spear to garner Patches’ attention.

“Here we are!” she exclaimed, limping forward. “A properly soaked spear, as promised.”

Patches carefully took the spear from her, watching her warily. “Well, that cleric gave you a right beating, didn’t he?”

She grinned. “Not enough to fell me.”

He glanced at the spear and smiled. “Aw, love, I could kiss you for this!”

Rowena didn’t have the energy to glare. She simply let her smile drop and pointed at him. “Do  _ not _ push your luck. I may be injured, but that does  _ not _ mean you are allowed to call me that, either.” Patches shrunk slightly. “Still, I kept my word. I hope that’s enough.”

“Plenty,” Patches replied. “Go heal up. Wouldn’t want to lose a valued buyer!”

“Hmm,” she said, limping back through the archway. “Priorities.”

The pace at which she walked by Frampt was concerning, at best. She was making plans for how to quickly reach the bonfire, but Ornstein was standing outside.

“What is it now?” Rowena questioned. “Do you honestly think I’m going to go anywhere else like this?”

“Hold still,” he replied.

“What are you-”

She yelped as he picked her up, one arm supporting her back and the other tucked under her knees. Rowena hissed a bit, but was more confused than bothered by the pain. She glanced at him as he walked towards the bonfire. 

“It isn’t that far,” she insisted. “Are you sure you-”

“Yes,” he said quickly.

Rowena frowned. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“Because I know what you were going to ask. The answer is still no.”

She sighed. Something changed down in the Tomb, but she couldn’t place what. Yet again, it was another moment where she wished she could see his face and puzzle out what he was thinking. Tone of voice and body language only told her so much. Still, she felt that Ornstein was not the only one to undergo...something. Rowena could not forget the desperate cry she let out just minutes ago. She blamed it on a survival reflex, but there was more to it than that. Nothing told her it was that simple. 

Rowena shook her head, dismissing the thought for the time being. 

Ornstein set her down gently in front of the bonfire, only returning to his normal spot once she was settled. Heat soothed her body, and the mere presence of the flame began to mend her wounds. She reclined on the ground as soon as she was able. 

“I am going to sleep for another two days,” she mumbled. 

“So you say,” said Ornstein. 

“Yes.” The tips of her fingers brushed the tiny flickering tongues of the bonfire. “And once I awake, we go to Izalith. So don’t wake me.”

She caught the slightest turn of his head, as if he didn’t want to be seen observing her.

“I promise nothing.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rub a dub dub, gotta stab that scrub! ...I don't know why I thought of that just now.
> 
> Side note: Ornstein was there to witness at least that last bit of the fight, so...make of that what you will.
> 
> And an announcement: Just in case people didn't get a chance to read my profile page, I want to let you guys know that I'm going to be participating in National Novel Writing Month. So, in short, that means no updates during November. Regular updates (monthly? I guess these chapters are monthly now) will resume in December. Thank you all so much for your patience and support!


	9. Accursed Flame

Long had Ornstein wondered what became of Izalith since the Witch herself attempted to recreate the First Flame. All he had ever heard before attending to his duty was that it was a failure. Now, as he and Rowena sat amongst looming spider egg sacs, he had a sinking feeling that his curiosity was going to be the death of his sanity.

While he averted his gaze from the strange spider woman nestled in the wall in front of him, Rowena continued to stare at her. She fiddled with a dull ring on her finger, her eyebrows knitting together. Oppressive heat seeped from the nearby gaps in the walls. While his armor was meant to handle such assaults on the body, it still gnawed at his senses and made him irritable, at best. Beads of sweat dripped down Rowena’s forehead, but she was too preoccupied to be bothered with it.

She rose from her seat moments later. Tiny tears still littered the back of her clothes. The bonfire could heal her in many ways, but its power could not mend all things. He wondered if the bonfires only sustained an Undead for so long, if one day their powers could no longer bring back that which was already hanging on the very fringes of death. He looked down at his feet, then at the gentle flames. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

A sharp gasp dragged him from his thoughts. Hurried footsteps shuffled back and stopped next to him. Ornstein glanced up at Rowena. He was taken aback by her tearful expression.

“What is it now?” he asked, maintaining a demanding edge to his tone.

Rowena gestured towards the woman. “The Fair Lady...she…” She shook her head. “Take off one of your gauntlets.”

Ornstein stared at her for a moment. “What?”

“This is _not_ the time to argue, Dragon Slayer,” she growled. “Indulge me for once, will you?”

He watched her blink back tears before slowly detaching his right gauntlet with a few subtle motions. Once they were out of the golden metal plates, his fingers stretched and cracked almost on their own. Ornstein stared at his hand. Had it really been so long since it had seen the sun? Standing guard for all of this time, while the heavenly body shined in all of its brilliance just outside those walls. It never set on the city of the gods, not anymore. Yet, ever since Anor Londo emptied, it may as well have never existed, since it hardly graced his skin.

“You’re so pale.”

Ornstein blinked. He never registered Rowena inspecting his hand with both of hers. Her small fingers, so rosy in comparison, traced the fading scars that curled around his own. He twitched and cleared his throat. She stopped immediately.

“Right,” she mumbled. “Sorry.” Rowena took the rust-colored ring off of her right hand and slipped it onto one of his bare fingers before he could say anything else. “This ring was given to me long before I came to Firelink. I had no concept of its purpose. Not...not until just now.” She gestured towards the spider woman. “Please, go speak with her. Tell me you can hear her, too.”

He stood and walked towards the woman, Rowena standing close to the bonfire. Ornstein studied the frail woman closely. Her angular spider legs seemed frail, held up by mere strings of webbing and will power. She was a sickly grey. Ashen, almost. The only thing bright about her form was her blonde hair. And yet, she remained calm, praying for unseen souls. The small, writhing eggs surrounded her person were full of more life than she could muster. However, at the sound of his approaching footsteps, her head twitched upward.

“Quelaag, my dear sister…”

Ornstein froze. He glanced down at the ring on his finger, then back up at the woman. She was completely blind. He shook his head.

“No…” he muttered.

Rowena let out a shuddering gasp behind him. The woman perked up again.

“Quelaag?” she asked. “Please, sister, do not cry. I am happy, truly. I have you, don’t I?”

Ornstein looked back at Rowena, whose mouth was covered by a hand. Tears spilled freely from her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

“You hear her,” she whispered. “Who is she?”

He gestured for Rowena to come closer. She did, but it was a slow and pained shuffle forward. He set a hand on one of her trembling shoulders and spoke in a low voice.

“One of the Witch’s daughters,” he said. “It seems her failure to recreate the First Flame did more than claim her life.” He paused, staring at the fading Daughter of Chaos. “There is nothing to be done, Rowena.”

She sniffled and glared. “How can you-”

“She is fused with a demon. Given her circumstances, she is fortunate to be alive.”

Rowena jerked out of his grasp and turned away, hugging her arms.

“Let me at least leave something,” she mumbled.

“Rowena-”

“She. Has. _Nothing_ ,” she snarled. “I had to kill her sister to reach the bell, so I will be _damned_ if I allow you to stop me.”

Ornstein quieted. He stared at her hunched form. Her fingers had turned red from her grip on her own arms. She took in another sharp breath before approaching the woman again. Rowena allowed her arms to uncurl and procured a small sprite of Humanity from one of her pouches. Trembling hands crushed it, the remnants seeping from her fingers towards the woman’s frail form. A spindly spider leg twitched in response. Rowena bowed her head and stepped backwards.

“Goodbye, Quelaag,” the woman muttered. “Do be safe.”

Rowena bit back a sob and turned away, walking down a path to the left of the bonfire. Although she could not currently understand the Witch’s daughter, the barrier did nothing to quell her emotions. Once again, he underestimated just how quickly she became attached to the weak and helpless. By all rights, she should hate this land and everything in it for trying to slaughter her at any given opportunity, yet she carried on and rushed to the needs of every broken being she found. In brighter days, she would be smiled upon for her compassion.

Now, it would serve only to kill her.

He followed Rowena without another word. The sound of her retreating footsteps took him down a narrow corridor that was completely covered in spider webs. As he descended, the temperature increased. Once he reached the end, he found Rowena standing in front of another bonfire. She stared at the hellish landscape in silence. Archaic structures, long forgotten in the dregs of time, stood as testament to the days of a bygone age. Lava flowed from distant walls in blazing rivers, creeping down into what he could only assume was a deeper reservoir of the deadly substance. Before them sat egg-laden worshippers, prostrated before an unseen deity. He stopped beside Rowena and slipped the ring off of his finger before reattaching his gauntlet to the rest of his armor.

“You did all you could,” he said. Rowena glanced up at him. Ornstein held the ring out to her. She took it gingerly and stowed it away.

“Not without a price,” she muttered, wiping her eyes with a sleeve. “And not without resistance.” She shot him a glare. He made no motion to retaliate. Rowena slipped past the servants and peered over the ledge. She swallowed hard.

“Just as I thought,” she said. “There’s nothing but lava down there. How are we supposed to get to Izalith if there’s lava?”

Ornstein approached the ledge and scanned the surrounding area.

“There.” He pointed just beneath their feet. “Perhaps that ledge will provide a path around the lava.”

Rowena took a few steps back. For a moment, he thought she was going to find another way around. Instead, she ran forward and jumped off of the ledge, landing on the path below with a small yelp. He rolled his eyes and leapt down after her, folding his arms after he recovered.

“You could have walked around,” he commented.

Rowena snorted. “What, afraid I’ll break my legs?”

“No, but it would be more practical to _not_ break them,” he replied.

She turned away from him. “As if you care, either way.”

Ornstein opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. Rowena was a fair distance away before he decided to follow her again. Her pace was hurried, frantic, yet she refused to run. She kept it as she wandered across the tops of ancient columns and towards a gate of fog on her left. By the time he reached her, she was skimming the bright, wispy fog with her fingertips.

“Hmm,” she began, “a tall, imposing fog gate blocking the rest of the path. What horrors could be waiting to greet us on the other side?” She glanced back at him briefly. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

He approached the gate, and the pair pushed through simultaneously. What they were met with, however, was not quite what he expected. A seemingly empty path, save for the remnants of broken stone, sprawled before them. Down to their left was the bubbling pool of lava, and in the distance sat a small set of stairs that almost blended into the rest of the broken earth. Rowena walked forward without any additional remarks. He observed her stride before moving on He had seen it many times before in Anor Londo. Cautious, yet riddled with purpose, almost as if some unseen deadline had imprinted itself upon her while he was not watching. Even as she stepped on uneven ground, her hands remained close to her weapons. She was becoming more watchful of her surroundings.

Ornstein was uncertain of whether to be proud of her progress or annoyed that she took so long to make it.

He shook his head and moved forward. Rowena ascended the distant stairs and paused at the top, waving at him from afar.

“Nothing yet!” she yelled. Rowena turned and kept moving before he had the chance to respond. “Nothing but lava and this damned heat. Honestly, if I find the person that placed all of this lava down here, I am going to have quite a few words with-”

She screeched and hopped back behind the wall. Ornstein ignored the sudden urge to run in her direction and calmly walked forward. At his approach, she turned to face him. Her widened eyes screamed their fear to the heavens, but she simply pointed beyond the safety of the wall. He peeked around it and nearly jumped backwards himself.

A mass of flaming tentacles writhed in the distance. Whatever being it was attached to stood peacefully amongst the lava pool. Judging by their surroundings, it had to be a demon of some kind. Though he had only heard rumors of the abominations that surfaced from the Witch’s abode, he never thought they would be this deformed, ever consumed by the chaotic flames of Izalith. Or, what was left of it, at this rate. He blinked, only to note Rowena’s sudden absence. She had traveled far beyond the safety of the wall, though it was at the pace of a wary child sneaking past their raging mother.

“Testing the creature’s patience, are we?” he called.

Rowena whipped around. “It hasn’t moved. I can only assume we can move through this place without disturbing it.” She turned around and kept walking, stopping about halfway across the outlook. “Although...there _is_ something intriguing over there.”

“Ah, the last words of a overly curious Undead,” he commented. Ornstein could still hear her indignant scoff from that distance. Nevertheless, she kept walking. Once she reached the distant treasure, she paused and fiddled with it.

“It’s robes of some kind,” she said. “Not going to be of much use to-” She yelped and backed away, though over what he was too preoccupied to say as he caught a shift of orange in his peripherals.

Ornstein glanced over at the demon. What was once docile turned its attentions towards Rowena. He stepped out, readying his spear. Rowena turned and gasped before he could alert her to their changing situation. A blast of flames barreled towards her. He ducked behind the wall, only peeking out again once it dissipated. She’d taken cover behind her shield and was now running towards him, her stray hairs still glowing with the heat of the fire.

“I’m sorry!” she screeched. The creature let out an unpleasant groan and slammed one of its tentacles in her path. Rowena fell backwards, rolled to her feet and kept running once it was lifted out of her way. “I didn’t know! You can keep them!”

Another tentacle nearly flattened her. Rowena leapt out of the way and landed at Ornstein’s feet. He grabbed her closest hand and dragged her to her feet, hardly registering how she stumbled and almost fell again as they descended the steps. After a fair distance, he turned and released her hand. She took a few breaths, but let out a terrified squeak at the approaching creature and drew her bow. “Damn thing, making me use my arrows like this!”

Ornstein snorted, readying the lightning on his spear. “You certainly paid no mind to your supply when you shot at the drake.”

“Because that was _one_ arrow,” she growled. “I didn’t _need_ multiples for that task.”

“And if you had?”

She readied an arrow, hands shaking slightly. “Then I certainly would have saved myself the trouble and not been aiming for the drake. Honestly, how do you have the focus to mock me and fight all at once?”

He shot a bolt of lightning towards the approaching demon. “You gain the focus for many things when a dragon is attempting to bite your comrades in half.”

“You? Comrades?” She let out a short laugh as she shot her arrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

Ornstein fell silent again and focused on the creature in front of them. She knew so little of his life. If she understood anything that had occurred during the times of the Lords, she would not be so quick to spit such vitriol in his direction. He hopped back from the impact of another tentacle and jabbed at it a few times. Rowena hacked at it with her scimitar until it retracted.

But why should she know? It was only a matter of time before the two of them parted ways, and she cared not for his past or his present. Then again, that moment in the Shrine...he shook his head. A momentary bout of panic on her part. The cleric was busy trying to kill her. Of course she would do anything to escape. Such was the nature of humans stuck in precarious situations. Ornstein plunged his spear into the creature’s appendage. It retreated briefly, but was beginning to slow.

Another attack sent Rowena flying towards the cliff’s edge. She threw her bow up on the ground and caught the ledge with a hand, thought she would not stay there for long. He sent another bolt flying towards the creature. It groaned once more and fell into the pool below. For once, he was thankful that an enemy was weaker than it seemed. Ornstein stooped down and tugged Rowena up with one hand. He briefly wondered how she would react if he allowed her to dangle from his hand, just for a minute. Instead, he set her down and allowed her to retrieve her bow. She set it on her back and breathed a small sigh of relief.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she said, “but I really need to roll away faster.”

“And why is that?” Ornstein asked.

Rowena folded her arms. “So I am not forced to continue thanking you for saving me.” She brushed dirt off of her outfit. “Besides, it is not inherently necessary. You know I will come back.”

“How many times must I reiterate that allowing you to die, regardless of your guaranteed resurrection, goes against the very reason you were placed in my care?”

She raised an eyebrow. Somehow, he must have misspoken.

“Care?” A subtle smile played on her lips. “Why, Dragon Slayer, you make it sound as if you wish to be a gentle guardian instead of a near-soulless knight. Did you have a change of heart while my back was turned?”

Ornstein looked away from her and watched as the lava below began to drain. There was no reason for that word choice, that he knew for certain. Yet his mind was a traitor, it seemed. Seeing Rowena to the end of her quest was taking its toll, and not in any way he preferred. Perhaps he should have stood his ground and argued with Gwynevere. Surely, she would understand that humans, particularly Undead, were little more than tiny insects in the scope of this world.

Though the idea that he was soulless wounded him, in a way.

“No,” he finally said, looking at her again. “However, judging by your incessant commentary on the subject, it seems  _you_ wish for me to be such a figure.”

Rowena’s right eye twitched. “I am merely curious why you suddenly deem it mandatory that I stay out of harm’s way. I have suffered far worse than any Undead should, yet only now am I seen as delicate?”

“Not delicate,” he deflected. “Careless. That has been a trait since we met.”

“Then explain-”

“I am under _no_ obligation to explain my motivations to _you_ , of all beings,” he snapped. “May we move on from this topic of discussion before you decide to think of more hopelessly flawed arguments?”

She stared at him harshly for a long, silent moment. Rowena then turned on her heel and huffed.

“Fine,” she said, starting back towards the now clear path. “Be the pompous bastard you were meant to be, then. It makes no difference to me.”

Ornstein was tempted to say something else, but kept quiet on the matter and instead followed her as usual. There were still arduous trials ahead of them, and Izalith was going to be much more treacherous than he originally anticipated.

Although, labeling Rowena as one of these trials was beginning to feel...wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> November was a long and crazy month, but I'm finally back! Regular updates should resume, starting with this one. And who knows, maybe there will be a little surprise before the year is out...
> 
> Stay tuned, and I hope the holidays are treating you with kindness!


	10. Unexpected Pest

Rowena stabbed another round, floating demon and grumbled curses under her breath. Her back ached from the constant tumbling into snarling tree branches, and her skin still tingled with the lashings of fire. If she had to face another demon with the ability to knock her off of her feet with a simple swipe of its staff, she was going to gouge its eyes out. 

“Your aim is faltering.”

She whipped around. “One more word out of you, Dragon Slayer, and I will be stabbing  _ you _ instead of these damn demons.”

He skewered another small demon without looking at it. “‘Twas not  _ I _ who was nearly impaled because anger stood in the way. You must calm yourself.”

Rowena turned around again, smacked a demon off of the ledge and broke a rogue tree branch in the process.

“I  _ am _ calm.”

She ignored whatever comment Ornstein muttered and stalked down the stairs, stabbing every demon she could find along the way.

This place was an absolute nightmare. Pits of lava, perilous ledges, horrific creatures jumping, running, and falling from every crack and crevice. She never thought she would have to lay eyes upon the same demon that knocked her off of the bridge in the Undead Burg, but she gave up on hoping for the best when she counted the third one lumbering in their direction. Combined with the heat and the irritated knight accompanying her, her patience was nonexistent.  Rowena started counting stairs to keep her mind focused away from her anger. It stopped working after the twentieth step. 

How could  _ anyone _ fathom to live so deep underground? Nito’s dwelling made sense: everything down there was dead, or supposed to be. Nothing in that place truly cared whether or not the sun graced what was left of their bodies. But this witch...surely, if she still had a soul to take, she must miss the fresh, warm breezes from above. And if all of her daughters became strange mutations of their former selves, didn’t she miss them, as well? There was so much she didn’t understand. Perhaps she could speak to the witch and gain some clarification on the matter.

A promising gleam at the bottom of the stairs tore her from her hypothetical conversation.

“Sweet mercy, a  _ bonfire! _ ”

Rowena dashed ahead and nearly tripped over the sword sticking out of the ground. She lit the bonfire and plopped down next to it, holding her face in her hands. It wasn’t long before Ornstein sat across from her.

“This entire place is backwards,” Rowena mumbled.

“Some would say the same about you,” Ornstein replied.

She glared at him, but continued. “We are clearly walking through a cesspool of lava and demons. Of course, I’ll take it over Blighttown. I’m sure you agree.” She didn’t wait for his reply. “However...I didn’t expect all of these  _ trees _ down here. What business have they snaking about and surviving such harsh conditions?”

“Whoever said it was  _ multiple _ trees?”

Rowena’s face went blank.

“Have you been hiding something this whole time?”

“No. It is mere speculation. Surely, you know the difference?”

“Not when it comes to you.” She sighed. “Don’t play head games with me. I’m already feeling ill from the heat.”

After a few minutes of aimlessly staring at the bonfire, Rowena shifted towards the ground and crawled towards the makeshift wooden path.

“What are you doing now?”

Rowena stopped, looking back at Ornstein. “What does it  _ look _ like I’m doing?”

“Do you wish for an honest answer?”

She growled and looked back towards the snaking branch, shuffling her way over to it. Once there, she sat on it and placed her hand on the surface. It was unnaturally smooth, not rough like she was expecting. Someone long before them must have hollowed out the walking path. She looked over the edge. Branches upon branches sprouted from nothing. Well, not nothing, but certainly not something they had encountered just yet. Perhaps the Witch, in her grief, allowed her domain to become overrun. 

Or...she’d gone mad.

Rowena shook her head and continued scanning the level below them. There was another fog gate ahead, and she didn’t relish the idea of facing another tough enemy so soon. However, something else in front of it caught her attention. A faint, orangish glow.

“Is that…” She rushed to her feet. “That is a summon sign. Gods, I haven’t seen that type since…” She gasped. “Solaire!”

“What?”

Rowena turned around. “He aided me against you.” Rowena paused. Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of words

“Ah, yes,” Ornstein replied. “The Warrior of Sunlight…”

There was a certain hush to his tone, although he gracefully ignored her mild verbal misstep. She blinked, then continued. “Well, whatever is ahead, surely he can provide us with some assistance.” Rowena turned away and began to walk down the sloping wooden path. “Do keep up, Dragon Slayer!”

She giggled at his sigh and restrained herself from skipping down to the bottom. It would be refreshing, gathering another source of help. It had been far too long since they last fought side by side, and besides, she hadn’t seen Solaire for quite some time. If he left his summon sign here, he had to be close. Gathering another perspective on this place could be helpful, and chatting would be a nice boost to her mood.

Rowena scurried over to the cheerfully colored summon sign and brushed her fingers against it. It wobbled at her touch, then faded. Waiting was the worst part. 

“I trust you repaired your weapons recently?”

Rowena chewed on her bottom lip, then drew her scimitar. Sharp as ever.

“Yes,” she replied, glancing back at Ornstein. “And you?”

“I had no need.”

She scoffed. “So you say.”

Rowena tapped her foot a few times against the ground before Solaire emerged from his summoning spot. She grinned and greeted him with a wave. These strange phantom helpers never talked, but they could certainly gesture, and gesture Solaire did. He waved back to Rowena, then tilted his head and pointed at Ornstein. 

“Yes, he’s still here,” Rowena said.

Solaire clapped his hands a few times. She’d forgotten how much faith he had in the power of cooperation. 

“Well,” Ornstein started, “at least  _ someone _ appreciates my presence.”

She huffed and turned towards the fog gate. The sooner she was done with this obstacle and one step closer to ridding herself of this infuriating knight, the better. At least, that’s what she kept thinking to stop herself from yelling, anyway.

With a breath, she pushed through the wall of fog and came upon a cavern of lava. The lava poured from the crevices in the walls and melded into one scalding pool. Her heart sank. Whatever was in here, it was going to be much more trouble than it was likely worth.

She stared at the lava for a moment, expecting something to emerge. Nothing did. At another glance, she realized it was too shallow for that. A rock dropped from the ceiling in the back of the cavern and sizzled. Rowena glanced towards the source. Something clacked against stone.

“This had  _ better not _ be an insect,” Rowena growled.

“What do you expect it to be, a wolf?”

“It would be much more pleasant that way.”

More tapping against stone. Her hand clenched around her scimitar handle. Something began to glow on the ceiling. 

“Decidedly  _ not _ a wolf,” Ornstein muttered.

Rowena swallowed hard. From their position on the ground, it was easy to see what exactly was lingering above. A large centipede clung to the ceiling. Before long, it was springing to life and flipping itself over into the lava. Rowena resisted the urge to vomit. It was not one, but  _ multiple _ centipedes attached to one main body. To her horror, it had a pair of animal-like legs in addition to the numerous insect legs. Its eyes glowed an almost blinding white, briefly locking her into place. When it started lumbering towards them, a hand gripped her arm.

“We will  _ not _ be having a repeat of the Gravelord. Is that understood?”

Rowena bit back a shudder and looked up. “Yes. Understood.”

Ornstein removed his hand. She turned her gaze back towards the demon. 

One whip of one of its appendages had the entire party diving towards the ground. Ornstein snuck a stab as it retreated. Lightning crackled from the wound. It let out a long, irritated hiss. Rowena stumbled to her feet and scanned the area. It was keeping its distance, lingering in the lava where none of them could go. Well, perhaps Ornstein could stand in it for a brief time without burning off every appendage, but he was not taking that approach so soon. Rowena ducked and slashed at the retreating centipede. There has to be a better way of fighting this thing other than standing on a small island of land and hoping for the best. 

The demon hopped into the air and spun, kicking up lava as it went. A few drops splashed near her feet, but a large glob flew past her and-

Ornstein let out a short yell of surprise. Rowena whipped around and gasped. Part of the flying lava glob landed on his helmet. It was a slow process, but she could see the metal of his armor beginning to bend and warp.

“Take off your helmet!” she shouted, dodging another swipe. “It’s eating through your armor!”

“It will take time to seep through!” he shouted back. 

“And how long do you plan to wait before-”

The demon screeched. She tore her attention away from Ornstein. Its tail was chopped off and flailing on the ground. Her skin crawled, although Solaire stood calm as anything. The limb turned and started inching towards Rowena.

“ _ No! _ ” Rowena screeched, drawing her bow and firing several arrows. “Stay! Away! From me!”

The living tail refused to yield to her demands, even with arrows sticking out at every angle. It charged at her, but immediately regretted that decision once lightning from Ornstein’s spear smacked it in the face. After a few moments, the severed limb stilled. Something orange gleamed unnaturally at the end facing her. Rowena dashed over and picked it up, hoping it wasn’t scalding lava waiting to consume her. She place the small object in the palm of her hand, inspecting it.

It was a small black ring. The jewel in the center was brighter than anything she’d seen in recent days. The patterns in its glowing orange hue swirled and danced before her eyes. If anything, it looked less like a jewel and more like…

Lava.

Rowena dove to the ground, clutching the ring to her chest while the demon hissed above her. She slipped it on her right hand, thinking. Her other hand was dangerously close to the lava. If she touched it normally, it would melt her skin clean off. However, if this ring was as mystical as it seemed…

She shut her eyes tight and dipped a finger into the pool. There was still pain, that much was certain, but it was dull and slow-building as opposed to immediate agony. She grinned.

“Alright, you!” she shouted, getting to her feet and drawing her scimitar once more. “If you want to make this so difficult, I’ll come to  _ you! _ ”

“ _ Rowena! _ ”

She ignored Ornstein’s call and stepped into the lava. Heat poured into her boots, but it was more akin to standing in hot water. Rowena slashed at the demon from one side while Solaire skirted on the edge of the land and attacked the other side. Their adversary, however, did not take kindly to his proximity. The centipede scooped up Solaire and tumbled him into its strange center mouth. She yelped in horror as it gnawed on his body.

“ _ Stop it!” _ She ran underneath it and began to stab at its underside. “Let him  _ go! _ I’ll gut every  _ piece _ of you!”

The demon screeched, but continued to chew on Solaire. Rowena plunged her weapon into its stomach and dragged it along the underside, slicing into its body. Once she reached where the tail once was, she yanked it out. The centipede let out an agonized, garbled cry and spit Solaire back out onto cool, dry land. It stumbled backwards, but continued to swipe at her. She rolled around in the lava, ignoring the stabs of pain piercing her skin. It attempted another swipe, but instead fell over, its blood spilling into the lava pool. With one last screech and a spiteful slash to the face from Rowena, the demon expired.

She took a moment to catch her breath and brush stray hair out of her face. Her feet began to protest the heat exposure, but she dismissed it for now and turned to face Ornstein. Solaire had already disappeared.

“What are you  _ thinking? _ ” Ornstein demanded.

“Oh, so now I  _ think? _ ” she retorted. “A fine time to change your mind, Dragon Slayer.”

“Why are you  _ still _ standing in that lava?”

“The demon dropped a ring. It allows me to stand in lava for long periods of time.” She sheathed her scimitar and picked up a small sprite of Humanity. “Now, are you going to stand there and let the lava melt through your helmet, or will you accompany me to the bonfire so I may fix the damage done to said helmet?”

Ornstein started walking through the lava towards her. Not even a wince, although she couldn’t tell how much was due to his armor and how much was a front. 

“You will do  _ no such thing, _ ” he growled. 

“I have a smith box.”

“That is  _ not  _ the point.”

“Why are you so-” She stopped. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“Nonsense.”

“No.  _ Not _ nonsense,” she snarled. “If I see your face, you are afraid of the connection it could spark.”

“And how could it do such a thing? You harbor no kindness towards my presence.”

Rowena paused, frowning. Something sent an unpleasant twinge through her mind.

“You’re right,” she finally replied. “I don’t. Which is why I insist on fixing your helmet. I’ve mended more complicated pieces, and you won’t be of any use to me if you’re dead.”

Ornstein muttered something under his breath. It was too quiet for her to make out.

“ _ Fine _ .”

She turned on her heel and scanned the area. The archway across from where they entered was completely sealed, but there was a tiny inlet off to the left that looked promising, albeit easy to miss. Rowena started the trek towards what was hopefully another bonfire.

All of this talk about connections and emotions was beginning to eat at her. Surely, Ornstein was nothing to her. Nothing at all. He would remain nothing up until the very moment they parted, and she would never think of him again. And yet, she still insisted on repairing his armor. An awful feeling rose in her throat. It wasn’t just for necessity. It was a kindness, something he may or may not deserve. She swallowed her nausea and kept going, steering her thoughts away from the subject. 

The sight of Solaire at the end of the small tunnel tore her mind away from her brewing thoughts completely. She rushed towards and knelt down next to him, greeting him immediately.

“Hello, Solaire!” she chimed. “I must thank you for the help you provided. Truly, it would have been a much more difficult fight had you not assisted us.”

Silence fell between them. He didn’t bother to look at her. Rowena tilted her head when he finally spoke. 

“...Why?” he muttered. “Why?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Well, you are a capable fighter, of course. I don’t really understand-”

“No,” he interrupted. “Not that. After all of this searching, I still cannot find it…”

She clasped her hands together. Of course. He was still looking for his own kind of sun. She never really understood his quest in the first place. Perhaps she was never meant to understand it. But the sadness in his voice…

“Would you like to sit by the bonfire with us?” she offered. “You could use some rest, and...we could look for your sun together, if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “No. This is...something I must find on my own. After all, you have your own quest to attend to, do you not?”

“Yes, but-”

“Go, then. I will keep searching, and you will keep traversing this land. It is what we are meant to do.”

Rowena fell silent, then got to her feet and walked towards the bonfire. Her mind swam with questions. Was this truly what she was meant to do? Or was it something thrust upon her when the only other option was a slow, painful death? She had to wonder the same about Solaire. Was it the only choice he had, or felt he had? Something about this struck her as unfair. Then again, such was the nature of Lordran.

She stopped in her tracks. Ornstein’s helmet was resting on the ground, The right eye of the lion’s face was warped, but the rest remained almost perfectly intact, the red plume resting neatly around it. She glanced up to find very similar locks of hair cascading from Ornstein’s head down his back. Bright red, a cross between fire and blood. From that angle, she noted his defined jaw and a scar that crept up his right cheek. Too shallow to be caused by a small creature. He noted her halting footsteps and turned his head to look at her. Bright green eyes caught the light of the lava, adding an almost fearsome glow to his gaze. His eyebrows were set in a perpetually neutral state, just like she pictured, while his pale pink lips curved into a small frown. His cheekbones alone were enough to make someone pause and wonder just who sculpted him from the earth. She should have expected something so unnaturally defined and near perfectly shaped, since he hailed from Gwyn’s domain, but there wasn’t really a word she could use to describe him other than…

Stunning.

Much to her chagrin.

“Are you finished staring?”

Rowena blinked and shook her head slightly. “Sorry, I...I didn’t expect you to look like...this.”

Ornstein tilted his head as she snatched up his helmet and walked over to the other side of the bonfire. “Like what?”

She gestured towards him, waving her hand slightly while she lit the bonfire and procured her smith box. “ _ This _ . I don’t know, I expected something much more-”

“Horrifying?”

She rolled her eyes. “Always jumping to nasty conclusions, I see.”

“As I well should,” he said. “You regard me with such vitriol, after all.”

Rowena pressed her lips into a flat line, focusing on her work. “Yes, well...I give back what I receive. ‘Tis only fair.”

They both fell silent as she repaired his helmet. Her thoughts spun in circles, granting her conflicting feelings, emotions screaming into an endless void. Briefly, she wondered what he was thinking about all of this. Then she remembered she wasn’t supposed to care. The gods and humanity were never too close, anyway. 

This wasn’t supposed to be any different.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Remaster, everyone!!!
> 
> Phew! After almost six months (ugh), an update has appeared! Life's thrown a lot my way these past few months, and it's taken a while to adjust and get back to writing. However, I'm hoping to stay on track and not take another six months to update. Trust me, I'll be crying if this happens again. I've missed these two so much. 
> 
> Thanks for being so patient, and I hope you're all having fun diving back into Lordran!


	11. Dimming Sunlight

“We need to turn around.”

Ornstein fixed the last fasten on his helmet and stopped in his tracks, staring at Rowena. “Why?”

“Because,” she started, pointing forward, “I am  _ not _ dealing with  _ that _ .”

He looked ahead and paused. At first glance, all he noticed was forgotten architecture and lava. However, with another look, Ornstein tracked the large, headless remnants of dragons that stood in the lava in packs. He quirked an eyebrow, trying to puzzle out why they were still alive and how they arrived down here in the first place.

“They’re without their heads, Rowena,” he stated. “We should be able to pass them without rousing their suspicions.”

Rowena turned around and stared at him.

“What?”

“Headless means nothing to me,” she said. “They could have horrific second mouths in their throats, for all we know.”

“Do you have any  _ better _ ideas in mind?”

She tapped her fingers against the handle of her scimitar. “No. I don’t.”

With a disgusted scoff, Rowena crept forward, her eyes always focused on the creatures around them. Ornstein, however, allowed his gaze to wander.

Izalith, until now, was a mystery to him. It was always spoken of, but very few ever traversed to the Witch’s domain. Still, what was left of it was beautiful in a way he couldn’t describe. ‘Ancient’ was the best word he had for it, and it did none of the intricate designs justice. It was nothing like the glory of Anor Londo, but Izalith may have rivaled it, at one point. Part of him liked to think that was the truth.

“I don’t like them,” Rowena muttered as she hopped back onto land. “I don’t like the way they move.”

“They are hardly moving,” he replied.

“Yes they are,” she retorted. “Look at how they’re swaying! One of them is going to turn around at any moment and try to gut us. Personally, I would rather not experience that.”

“Well, if you keep yelling like this, they are  _ bound _ to notice.”

Rowena fell silent almost immediately. A small smile graced his lips.

“Do  _ not _ toy with me,” she growled after sneaking further towards an abandoned structure.

Ornstein was very grateful for his helmet in that moment.

“‘Tis not toying if it is truth,” he remarked, hardly keeping the smug grin out of his voice. He didn’t know why the sudden urge to tease her came about. All he knew was it felt fitting. That and it forced her to focus on fighting. That was always a point in his favor.

She slipped around the side of the structure and hacked away at another demon. He stabbed the other one going after her as she dove inside and almost tripped over the chest sitting in the middle of the room.

“If this is a mimic…” Rowena sucked in a breath and threw open the chest. She exhaled and picked up her find. “Good. No mimic. I don’t fancy repeating Anor Londo.”

Ornstein bit back his laughter. “Did you not check them before digging your Undead claws into everything?”

She turned her head and glared. “And how would  _ you _ know of the mimics I ran into?”

He folded his arms. “Just who do you think  _ placed them? _ ”

Rowena blinked a few times, then stood up straight. “I knew someone had to be cruel enough to place them at all, but it makes all the more sense if it was  _ you _ .”

Ornstein struggled to come up with a reply as she brushed past him. He walked out and took a moment to observe the area.

“Up there,” he said, pointing. “The bridge looks promising, but the cluster of buildings in the distance might also be worth a look.”

“I would rather not look at either.” She sighed. “But, seeing as we have no choice, I say we find our way up there first, then worry about which path to take. They seem close.” Rowena gestured towards another structure in the lava pool. “That is also of interest. I would like to inspect it further, if it will not incur your wrath.”

“My, how considerate of you.”

“Only for the sake of my own sanity.” She took a step. “Shall we?”

Ornstein followed close behind her without complaint, although he couldn’t deny she was growing more confusing with every conversation. One minute, she was as biting and bitter as when they first met. The next, her sharpened edges would soften, and she would show him a measure of kindness, or at the very least, civility. Something about her changed since they left Anor Londo, yet he was at a loss for what it was.

“If I sneak past them this way,” she said, “perhaps they won’t see me.”

He paused. “And...how would they see you? They have no  _ heads _ .”

She waved her hand. “Bite your tongue. You know what I mean.” Rowena approached a wall of the next structure. “This one seems closed off. But…” Instead of smacking it with her weapon like he expected, she tapped it a few times with her hand, as if she were asking permission to enter. The wall faded, revealing a bonfire. Something stomped in the lava behind them. Rowena shrieked and ran inside, not bothering to look back. Ornstein slipped in after her, the bonfire already lit by the time he sat down.

“I  _ knew _ the lack of heads was meaningless,” she grumbled. “I don’t trust anything in this wretched place.”

“And that marks  _ one _ good decision you’ve made since we’ve arrived."

She rolled her eyes, but said nothing further. Perhaps she was just as perplexed about their situation as he was. It was hard to say. There were so many emotions dancing in those brown eyes of hers, though her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Ornstein brushed a hand over the part of his helmet she fixed. There wasn’t a single blemish to be found, even with all of the complex details. He almost hated to admit it to himself, but this was truly-

“Good work?”

Ornstein nearly jumped at the sound of her voice.

“...Decent,” he replied, setting his hand back on his lap. “The smiths of the gods fair better. However, it is enough for an Undead’s hands.”

Rowena frowned. “Funny. I thought it was rather good.” She shrugged. “But what do I know? I am merely a lowly Undead, after all.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust, then she stood up. “I am sprinting towards the nearest patch of land. Do try to keep up.”

She was gone before he could get to his feet. For once, she did not screech to the heavens as she dashed and weaved her way through the lava. Ornstein plodded through the lava, ignoring the heat creeping through the bottoms of his feet. Her trail led him up another large, winding branch and to the top of one of the many decaying structures. He slowed his pace once Rowena was in view, her stride slow and purposeful. Eventually, she stopped halfway down the branch and heaved a great sigh.

“...No.” She shook her head. “I am  _ not _ dealing with any more of these creatures or demons or statues or...or whatever they are.”

“And how else would you propose getting past them?”

She turned her head and grinned. “Simply do what I do best!”

He let out an audible groan as she took off once more. It was all well and good for her to run from every beast, but when she had more than ten following her, who would be responsible for striking them down? According to his duty, him. He strode in her general direction, knocking back enemies as he saw fit until he reached a large set of stairs. He looked up to see Rowena slowly backing down them, pointing towards a creature with a multitude of eyes and teeth in places they had no reason to exist. He bit back his disgust and stepped forward. Without another word, Rowena pulled out her bow and began shooting at the creature. After a few arrows, it was dead.

“Exactly how many times have you taken titanite shards to your bow?” Ornstein inquired as she tucked it away.

“Enough times for it to matter,” she replied.

“Why haven’t you been utilizing it more, then?”

“I could ask  _ you _ why you have not deemed your skull an apropos weapon, but I leave that to your own discretion. Leave the use of my bow to mine.”

He rolled his eyes and kept silent on the matter. She turned away from him and looked on from their position. One path was a multitude of stairs, leading to what he could only assume was their final destination for this part of their journey. The other was another large branch, riddled with enemies, although something seemed off about this section of Izalith. Not because of what he could see, but of what he could  _ not _ see. The bridge of interest was in that direction, but something down below the branch was clanging incessantly. Rowena also took note of the sound and peeked over the branch after a few moments, nearly falling over at what she saw.

“ _ Siegmeyer! _ ” she shouted, straightening up.

Ornstein stepped to the side to obtain a better view. A knight in onion-shaped armor turned around and waved in her direction. He would never understand humanity’s fascination with oddly shaped armor. The obsession escaped him.

“Ah, it’s you!” Siegmeyer called. “You need not worry! I noticed a patch of loose stones and decided to investigate.”

“Your investigation ends here,” Rowena replied. “You will turn back from whence you came and explore elsewhere.”

Siegmeyer tilted his head. “Your concern is very welcome, friend, but this is an area best explored on my own.”

“I think not.” Rowena stepped down the branch towards him. “Need I remind you of the tower in Anor Londo? Or your lack of moss in Blighttown?”

“All honest mistakes.”

“And these honest mistakes have almost led to your death on numerous occasions.” She folded her arms. “You will, at the very least, travel back to Firelink and stay out of trouble. When I return, we may have a discussion on your issues with preparedness. If you refuse to leave, I will  _ drag you _ out of Izalith myself. Is that understood?”

She sounded less like the man’s compatriot and more like a disapproving parent. In an odd way, it was amusing. Siegmeyer sighed and shook his head, mumbling something under his breath. “Alright, alright. If you insist.” He pulled out a bone and disappeared in a fine mist of light. Rowena breathed a sigh of relief while Ornstein walked down the branch to meet her.

“I save the man from poison and arrows and he  _ still _ has no sense,” she muttered.

“And I suppose you think yourself the epitome of sense?” Ornstein retorted.

She scoffed and walked on.

The bridge ahead of them was almost as empty as he suspected...save for the looming Titanite Demon standing in their way. Rowena swallowed hard. Ornstein looked down at her. Her dark eyes were wide with a combination of anger and fear, shooting daggers towards the demon. She let out a growl of frustration and yanked her scimitar out of her sheath.

“I’ve had  _ enough _ of this wretched place,” she snarled, “and if I must cut down this demon to escape it, then by the  _ gods _ , I will do it.”

“ _ Without _ being tossed off of the bridge?”

She sighed. “Always snapping my victorious images away from me.”

“As is my duty.”

“Haughty bastard.”

Ornstein walked forward in tune with Rowena, spear in hand. The demon perked up, featureless face watching their every move. The hardened creatures were powerful, but slow. One could easily snap around their lumbering movements and give a handful of calculated blows, provided they decided not to do anything unexpected.

As soon as the demon raised its stone staff, Ornstein rushed forward and stabbed it mid-attack. He slipped around another swing of the weapon. In a way, this was simple. Much too simple for his liking. Of course, Izalith was filled to the brim with horrid abominations, but to see a Titanite demon lying in wait on a bridge...it was off. He performed another quick turn and stab. Another point of note…

Where in the name of the gods had Rowena gone?

Ornstein peeked around one side of the demon as he dodged again. No sign of her. He took a quick glance behind him. Footsteps echoed in the direction they were originally heading towards. He growled and gave the Titanite demon a swift whack.

“Insufferable  _ wretch _ ,” he snarled. A few more hits sent the demon tumbling to the ground in defeat. Ornstein took a swift turn, spear cutting the air as he moved, and stalked towards the other side of the bridge. “Running off like the damned coward she is. I will skin her, orders be-”

A piercing scream echoed off of the walls. Ornstein froze. The sound curdled his blood. He quickened his pace. A sickening feeling pervaded his senses. In all of her trials, Rowena never screamed in such horror. It was not a noise purely made to grab his attention, no. It was something far more horrifying, and he was hesitant to find out what it was.

“Your duty, Dragon Slayer,” he muttered to himself, steadying his breaths as he approached. “Your duty.”

Something sharp clanged against stone. Ornstein reached the top of the stairs, but did not have to take a single step down them. Rowena burst out of the darkness below, scrambling towards him. He nearly stumbled back when she grabbed his free arm, almost clinging to it for protection. She was...trembling.

“What is it?” he whispered, though his voice was devoid of his previous anger. Whatever was down there shook her stubborn resolve.

“I…” Rowena took a heaving breath. “Please...d-do not make me do this.”

“Do what?”

“He…” Her grip on his arm tightened. “Solaire...he’s gone mad and-” She choked on another gasp, hardly able to speak.

Ornstein took a closer look at Rowena. Blood trickled from her forehead, and already, bruises began to blossom on her cheeks. One of her legs wobbled exceptionally, and upon further inspection, he could see why. A patch of red was growing where her white garb rested against her thigh. Her fingers were red from strain, a strong grip on her sword and...shield. She never used her shield unless told to do so.

Gone mad...

He carefully removed her fingers from his arm and led her towards a nearby wall. “Stay hidden.”

“What are you-” Rowena paused. Her eyes began to glisten. “No. No, you  _ can’t! _ ”

“It is your life or his, Rowena.” He looked away from her. “And my duty lies with you.”

“ _ Damn your duty! _ ” she shrieked. Ornstein looked to her again. She was shrinking in on herself, her breaths faulty and short, yet her eyes burned. “You  _ never _ wanted this.  _ Never _ . Your honor is  _ meaningless _ . Save him and forget me.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Why do you deny yourself?!” she demanded. “You think nothing of me!”

“Enough, Rowena.”

“ _ Leave me to ROT! _ ”

“ _ Enough. _ ”

The subtle change in his tone was enough to silence her for once. A choked sob left her mouth. Ornstein tore his gaze away from her and stared forward. In the dark, he spotted the faintest gleam of Solaire’s armor, approaching their position.

“I will give this warrior the peace you cannot bear to bestow.”

Screeches of fury and curses followed his retreating steps down the stairs. Ornstein shut them out, steeling himself for battle. Of course he expected the bloodied sword, the murderous intent. All of these were burned into his brain from years of combat. It was not the knight’s demeanor that gave him pause.

It was the thing atop his head.

At first glance, it looked to be another kind of helmet. However, when one of the thin appendages twitched, Ornstein bit his tongue to stop his nausea in its tracks. It was a parasite, shaped like...the sun. He pushed the twisted irony from his mind and readied his spear. It would be quick, if he had any say in the matter. He was no bringer of mercy, yet there he stood, ready to end another’s misery.

For her, of all beings.

Solaire raised his free hand into the air and conjured a bolt of lightning. He should have expected this from a Warrior of Sunlight. The dancing electricity sent him slowly spiraling into a seething anger he desperately attempted to control. Now was no time for such memories. Ornstein charged through the flying bolt and knocked Solaire off of his feet. He was vulnerable enough for a quick stab, enough to end this insanity. Ornstein stood over his foe, as he had done so many times before to so many others. Poised to strike. He hesitated. A familiar stare burned into the back of his skull. He turned to look behind him. Rowena stood at the top of the stairs. She shook her head.

“Look away, Rowena,” Ornstein commanded.

She inhaled through her teeth, then shut her eyes and turned away from the scene, covering her mouth. He looked back down at Solaire, who was struggling to fight against the foot Ornstein had on his leg. With a breath, he plunged the spear into Solaire’s chest. Solaire twitched upward with a gasp.

“Ahh,” he breathed, “it’s over...My Sun...it’s setting…” He reached a hand towards the ceiling. “It’s dark...so dark…”

Solaire exhaled, then faded into mist and...ash. Ornstein knelt down where he once was. Only the warrior’s helmet was left behind. He released an unsteady breath.

“May the eternal sun shine on thee, kind warrior,” he muttered, “and bring thee to thy deserved rest.”

A long lost send off, a hopeful prayer for all fallen Warriors of Sunlight. How easily they burned in its rays.

The words were bitter on his tongue.

Ornstein picked up the helmet and got to his feet. He turned. Rowena remained at the top of the stairs, collapsed in a heap. She trembled with sobs. He approached her slowly, kneeling down in front of her when he reached the top. She looked up at him, face wet with tears and blood.

“ ‘Tis done,” he muttered, his voice softer than he expected. He offered her the helmet. She shifted, her hands shaking as she took it from him. Rowena held it close to her chest, letting out a loud sob.

“You…you should have left me to  _ die! _ ” she snarled through her tears. “I-I can come back, again and again and again, yet I cannot save  _ anyone _ ! What does it  _ matter  _ if I waste away?! Why will you not  _ oblige me?! _ ”

Something in Ornstein’s mind broke. The desperation, the regret, the want of death to sweep her from the earth. It was terrifyingly familiar. He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again and set a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I cannot,” he mumbled.

Rowena shook her head furiously. “Do  _ not _ speak of your duty to me! I-It is  _ useless! _ ”

“It is  _ not _ my duty that prevents you harm.”

She took a few heavy breaths. “Then why... _ why _ will you not heed me?”

Her voice cracked as she spoke. Ornstein paused, gathering his thoughts.

“I…” He swallowed. “I do not wish to harm you.”

It was something he refused to admit to himself for far too long. Too proud, too stubborn, whatever it was. She was loud and brash and as stubborn as he, and yet...there was such light within her. Something that would go out without help, that required a push to stay alight. Even if she was not truly the one to save the realm from the dark, he saw no use in extinguishing her. Not anymore.

He noted her prolonged silence. His gaze had drifted to the floor. He looked back up at Rowena. Her eyes flooded with tears once more.

“Ornstein…”

He blinked. It was the first time she addressed him by his name. Before he could speak, she burst into prolonged wails. Whatever cracked in his mind only broke further. He set an arm around her back.

“Here,” he said, speaking low between her cries, “you cannot walk now. Allow me.” She did not protest as he picked her up, just as he had in Firelink, and carried her up the stairs and beyond. Her mourning echoed throughout the ruins of Izalith. Even she, an Undead hardened by the cruelties of the word, could break. By her status alone, she was barely worth the cares of the gods.

But he would grant her what they would not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaa yep, this was a sad one. Hi guys, I'm finally back with this update! Life has been super crazy, because I just moved to an entirely different state for a brand new job! Woo! Of course, I won't be updating again until at least December because of NaNoWriMo coming up in a few days, but I feel better knowing that I was finally (FINALLY) able to get this out for you guys.
> 
> On another note, I've kind of been wanting to list some music I listen to before I write/while I write. Not sure if anyone would be interested in seeing that, but figured I would put the idea out there so I can leave it in the end notes, if there is interest. Let me know, and I hope you enjoyed this update. See ya after November!


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